A 

0 
0 
1 
4 
2 
6 
0 
9 
9 

6 

UC  SOUTHERN  RtGIONAL  LIBRARY  1  ACILITY 

II  III  nil 

THE  UBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CAUFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ENGLISH  READING  ROOM 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arGliive.org/details/balladsfortimesgOOtuppiala 


,,,/^w^^_I^^^ 


BALLADS  FOR  THE  TIMES, 

GERALDIiNTE, 
IIACTENUS,  A  THOUSAND  LINES, 


OTHER    POEMS. 


BY 


MARTIN  FARQUHAR|^UPPER,  D.C.L.,  F.R.S., 

AUTnoa   OF    "I'KOVEKBIAL    PHILOSOPUT,"    ETC.,  ETC. 


atttlinri|Bli  (gMtinn. 


NEW  YORK  AND  AUBURN: 
MILLER,  ORTON  &  MULLIGAN. 

KcwTork:  96  Park  Bow— Auburn :  107  0«nea«e-st 
1856. 


CONTENTS. 


BALLADS  FOR  THE  TIMES:  — 

TO  THE  UNION Page  13 

THE  ANGLO-SAXON  RACE 16 

THE  FAMILY  GATHERINQ 18 

ENGLAND'S  WELCOME  TO  THE  WORLD IT 

A  HYMN  FOR  ALL  NATIONS 19 

A  WORD  FOR  THE  OREGON  MISSION » 

OUR  VOYAGE .       .  21 

THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW 22 

A  WORD  ON  ARRIVAL 28 

NEW  ZEALAND 28 

CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 23 

SONNET 2S 

THE  CANTERBURY  SEAL 28 

BRITAIN  TO  COLUMBIA ,       .       .       .    .  2T 

DIEU,  ET  MON  DROIT 29 

THE  GREAT  EXHIBITION,  1861 80 

THE  POET'S  MISSION 81 

GOD  BLESS  THE  QUEEN 84 

THE  JIOON  AND  MOONSHINE 86 

"NOBODY  FEELS  OR  CARES" 86 

THE  "CLAMEUR  DE  HARO" 86 

HONTOROUEIL:  JERSEY 88 

COMB  AS  YOU  ARE 40 

MONT  ST.  anCHEL 41 

BT.  HELIER'S  HERMITAGE,  JERSEY .42 

BT.  PAUL'S,  OF  ST.  HELENA 43 

FXBL 44 

(iii) 


iv  CONTENTS. 

WORDSWORTH 4» 

CAMBRIDGE 40 

PRESIDENT  TATLOR 46 

RAJAH  BROOKE 47 

AFRICA'S  SELF-BLOCKADB 48 

LOW  SPIRITS 48 

FORTITUDE.       .       .               .       »       .       .               49 

«HOW  MUCH  WORSE  IT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEENl" 60 

A  NIGHT-SAIL  IN  THE  RACE  OF  ALDERNET 61 

GENIUS  AND  FRIENDS 62 

THE  MANCHESTER  ATHEN^UM 6S 

THE  KINGSTON  CORONATION  STONE 64 

A  STAVE  OF  SYMPATHY 66 

ENCOURAGEMENT 56 

A  MISSIONARY  BALLAD 67 

THE  LAUREL  CROWN .68 

HCME 60 

RICH  AND  POOR 62 

THE  SABBATH 66 

"THE  LAMP  UPON  THE  RAILWAY  ENGINE" 67 

LABOUR 60 

THE  NEW  HOME 71 

CALUMNY   ....               76 

MERCY  TO  ANIMALS 76 

THE  DOG'S  PETITION 79 

"ENGLAND'S  HEART!" 80 

MT  OWN  PLACE .    .  81 

"WHAT  IS  A  POET?" .83 

ENVY 86 

WELCOME! 86 

BALM 87 

SELFISHNESS 89 

SELF-POSSESSION 80 

SLANDER.        .        - 91 

SONNET ■ 93 

THE  GOLDEN  MEAN 93 

TIMB 04 

"GOD  PRESERVE  THE  QUEEN!" 95 

A  BALLAD  FOR  THE  PRINCE  ALFRED 97 

A  NATIONAL  ANTHEM  FOR  LIBERIA  IN  AFRICA 98 

THE  LIBEBIAN  BEACON .       •       .    .  M 


CONTENTS.  > 

THE  LIBERIAN  CHUBCH 101 

A  NATIONAL  PRAYER  AGAINST  THE  CHOLERA 101 

COURAGE! 103 

A  HYMN  AND  A  CHANT 104 

HARVEST  HYMN  FOR  1849 lOT 

A  HARVEST  HYMN  FOR  1850 109 

HOP-PICKING 110 

A  SHORT  REPLY Ill 

CHARITY Ill 

THE  MAN  ABOUT  TOWN 113 

A  PRAYER  FOR  THE  LAND 114 

PRAISE  I 118 

"LIBERTY  — EQUALITY  — fRATERNITYl" 118 

MARTIN  LUTHER 118 

SOHOl 124 

REVISITING  CHARTERHOUSE 125 

THE  SISTERS 12T 

ENERGY 128 

"NON  ANGLI  SED  ANGELI" 132 

COUNTRY  LIFE 184 

FONS  PARNASSI 187 

ST.  MARTHA'S 138 

APPEAL,  1840 148 

REBUILT,  1849 148 

RECONSECRATED  MAY  15,  1850 149 

SONNET,  FOR  ST.  ANN'S,  ALDERNEY UO 

A  CONSECRATION UO 

A  THOUSAND  LIXES,  Ac.:  — 

8IX)T1I 162 

ACTIVITY 168 

ADVENTURE 164 

THE  SONG  OF  SIXTEEN 166 

FORTY 167 

TlIK  SONG  OF  SEVENTY 168 

NATURE'S  NOBLEMAN 100 

NEVER  GIVE  UPI 161 

THE  SUN 162 

THE  MOON 162 

THE  STARS 168 


H  CONTENTS. 

eUR  KINGDOM T  .       .    •  1« 

rOBGIVE  AND  rORQET IM 

*<HT  MIND  TO  ME  A.  EINODOM  IS" 166 

TAKRINO  CHURCH,  1844 176 

THE  SAME 176 

THE  SAME  PLACE  AND  DAY 170 

SONNET,  ON  A  BIRTH 176 

DUTY. 177 

COUNSEL 177 

HOME 178 

BYEOONES 179 

KChB,  BRITANNIAI 179 

THE  EMIGRANT  SHIP 18S 

THE  ASSURANCE  OF  HORACE 183 

THE  ASSURANCE  0¥  OYID 184 

POST-LETTERS 184 

ADVICB 18T 

THANKS 187 

BOCIETY 188 

THE  REAL  AND  THE  IDEAL 188 

ORIGINAL  PROLOGUE      .  188 

EPILOGUE , 188 

HACTENUS,  &c.:  — 

THE  NEW  YEAR .100 

ALL'S  FOR  THE  BEST! 191 

THE  RIDDLE  READ 192 

OLD  HAUNTS 194 

THE  BATTLE  OP  ROLEIA 194 

RETROSPECT 197 

PEACE  AND  QUIETNESS 199 

THE  EARLY  GALLOP 200 

ASCOT:  JUNE  8,  1847 201 

LITE 201 

WATERLOO 203 

"ARE  YOU  A  GREAT  READERr 209 

THE  VERDICT 209 


GUERNSEY 


210 


ALL'S  RIGHT 211 

THE  COMPLAINT  OP  AN  ANCIENT  BRITON 211 


WISDOM 


218 


CONTENTS.  1^ 

THE  HEAUrS  HTSBAND a* 

PROPHETS  216 

WHEAT-COKX  AND  CHAPF a5 

THE  TECTE  EPICURE 216 

THE  HAPPY  MAN .216 

HERALDIC 217 

THRENOS 218 

THE  DEAD  ....  220 

THE  THANKS  OF  PARUAMEXT  TO  YTELLINGTON  AND  HIS  ARMY      .        .    223 

i/fft/lfw         •       •       • .    226 

TO  A^^BICA. 226 

PAIN 228 

THE  TOOTHACHE 228 

NO  SURRENDER! 229 

NEVER  MlND  I 230 

THE  CROMLECH  DU  TUS,  GUERNSEY 231 

MY  CHILDREN.    1845 233 

A  DEBT  OF  LOVE.    1838 235 

TO  LITTLE  ELUN.    1837 236 

ON  THE  BIRTH  OF  LITTLE  MARY.    1838 238 

MARGARET.    1810 236 

TO  LITTLE  8ELWYN.    1842 23T 

ON  LITTLE  WILUAM.    1844 237 

HENRY  DE  B.  T.    1846 238 

THE  SEVENTH :  WALTER  F.  T.    1848 238 

BRRATA,  AN  AUTHOR'S  COMPLAINT 239 

VENUS 339 

"THE  WARM  YOUNG  HEART" 341 

TO  CIDLI,  ASLEEP 241 

ALFRED 242 

THE  DAY  OF  A  THOUSAND  YEARS  I 246 

THE  ALFRED  MEDAI^ 246 

SOCRATES  TO  LYSIAS 248 

THE  MEMORIAL  WINDOW 248 

A  CALL  TO  POOR  SEMPSTRESSES 251 

A  CALL  TO  THE  RICH 262 

OUR  THANKSamNO  HYMN 263 

ACCEPTABLE  TILANKS I 254 

TO  A  YOUXO  POET 255 

TO  THE  POET  OF  MEMORY 256 

▲  BONO     ....  257 


fffi  CONTENTS. 

CHEER  XJPI 267 

"TOGETUER" 268 

VRIEND3 269 

M.  T 259 

HORACE'S  PHILOSOPHY 260 

"THE  LAST  TIME" 261 

GERALDINE 263 

SOME  EARLY  POEMS :  — 

IMAQINATIOX 292 

THE  SOXQ  OF  AN  ALPINE  EL7 296 

DREAMS 298 

INFANT  CHRIST,  WITH  FLOWERS 299 

PAST,  PRESENT,  AND  FUTURE 301 

A  SHORT  GOSPEL 301 

ON  A  BULBOUS  ROOT S02 

CRUELTY 306 

MONSIEUR  D-ALVERON 809 

WISDOM'S  WISH 811 

THE  MOTHER'S  LAMENT 813 

TRUST 814 

THE  STAMMERER'S  COMPLAINT 315 

BENEVOLENCE 818 

A  CABINET  OF  FOSSILS 322 

FIVE  PSALMS 82t 

THE  BIOURNER  COMFORTED 829 

THE  SOULS  OF  BRUTES 832 

THE  CHAMOIS  HUNTER 837 

REPROOF 840 

THE  AFRICAN  DESERT 840 

THE  SUTTEES 347 

CONTRASTED  SONNETS:  — 

CHEERFULNESS  — MALICE 863 

NATURE 864 

ART 865 

THE  HAPPY  HOME 855 

THE  WRETCHED  HOME 866 

THEORY— PRACTICE 867 

BICHES— POVERTY 858 


CONTENTS.  IX 

LIGnX— DAKKXESS 869 

POETRY  — PIIOSE 860 

FRIENDSHIP,  COXSTRAINED— ENMITY,  COMPELLED 861 

PmLANTHROPIC  — MISANTHROPIC 862 

COUNTRY  — TOWN 363 

WORLDLY  AND  WEALTHY— WISE  AND  WORTHY 864 

LIBERALITY  — MEANNESS 865 

ANCIENT  — MODERN 866 

BPIRIT— MATTER VH 

LIFE— DEATH 868 

XLLEN  GRAY 360 

CHARITY 874 

TO  MY  BOOK,  "PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY" 876 

TO  THE  SAME 876 

WEDDING  GUrrS 377 

CHILDREN 378 

THE  QUEEN'S  BIRTHDAY 880 

A  GREENHOUSE 381 

A  OUMPSE  OF  PARADISE 381 

TO  THE  SOVEREIGN 382 

THE  CORONATION 882 

THE  ABBEY 883 

UNION 883 

BAYS  GONE  BY.    1830 384 

THE  CRISIS.    1829 385 

LAMENT.    1837 886 

DOWN  WITH  FOREIGN  PRIESTCRAFT.    1861 386 

THE  CATHEDRAL  MIND 88T 

POLITICS  IN  1S39 388 

TO  A  PREMIER 888 

PROTESTING  TUUTH 880 

THE  UNHOLY  ALLIANCE 390 

EXPEDIENCY.    1839 390 

eOOD  SHEPHERDS 801 

AMERICAN  BALLADS:  — 

TO  BROTHER  JONATHAN 892 

«YE  THIRTY  NOBLE  NATIONS" 396 

JOHN'S  REJOINa>ER 400 


Zi  CONTENTS. 

A  STATE  FOR  THE  S0X7TU 404 

TET  ONCE  AGAIN 407 

SOCKS  AnSASI 4U 

A  STAVE 418 

MAOARA 416 

OCR  SAY 41S 

THE  MISSIONARY  JUBILEE  HYMN 418 

GRATITUDE 418 

XHUS  FAU 419 


NOTE  BY  THE  PUBLISHERS. 


[The  followix  g  sketch  of  Mr.  Tupper's  literary  career,  is  from  the  pen  of 
William  Anderson,  Author  of  "  Landscape  Lyrics ; "  and  has  never  been 
printed  in  this  country.  It  appeared  originally  in  the  "  Church  of 
England  Journal,"  No.  LIX.  May  12,  1847.] 


MARTIN  FARQUHAR  TUPPER,  M.A.,  F.R.S. 

The  name  of  Martin  Farquhar  Tupper  has  become  popularly 
known,  not  only  in  this  country,  but  in  America,  and  on  the 
Continent,  as  that  of  an  author  of  great  original  genius,  a  highly 
cultivated  intellect,  extensive  scholarship,  and  very  superior  poetia 
powers.  He  is  the  eldest  son  of  the  late  eminent  surgeon,  Martin 
Tupper,  Esq.  F.R.S. ,  who,  after  a  prosperous  and  successful  practice, 
of  five  and  thirty  years,  died  suddenly  in  his  sleep,  of  angina 
pectoris,  on  the  8th  December,  1844,  at  Southill  Park,  the  residence 
of  the  Earl  of  Limerick,  only  a  few  hours  after  that  nobleman 
had  himself  expired  in  his  arms.  The  subject  of  the  present 
sketch  was  born  in  London,  in  1810.  The  family  from  which 
he  is  descended,  an  ancient  and  honourable  one,  belongs  originally 
to  Germany.  In  consequence  of  the  persecution  of  the  protestanta 
by  Charles  V.,  they  left  Hesse  Casscl,  in  1551,  and  settled  in 
Guernsey.  They  have  never  been  below  the  rank  of  gentlemen, 
and  the  circumstances  of  the  author  of  "Proverbial  Philosophy" 
are  affluent.  With  him  literature  is  not  a  profession,  but  a  recrea- 
tion, and  he  has  done  high  honour  to  it. 

He  received  the  first  part  of  his  education  at  the  Charter  House, 
and  afterwards  went  to  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  where  he  took  the 

(xiii) 


:riy  MARTIN    F.    TUPPEE. 

degrees  of  B.A.  and  M.A.*  He  subsequently  entered  at  Lin- 
coln's Inn,  and  in  due  time  was  called  to  the  bar,  but  never 
practised  as  a  barrister.  At  the  age  of  twenty-six,  he  married, 
and  has  a  fine  young  family  of  sons  and  daughters. 

Mr.  Tupper's  first  publication  was  a  little  work  issued  in  1832, 
entitled  "Sacra  Poesis,"  which  we  have  not  had  the  good  fortune 
to  see.  The  first  series  of  "Proverbial  Philosophy,  a  Book  of 
Thoughts  and  Arguments  Originally  treated,"  was  published  in 
December,  1837,  and  the  second  series  in  1842.  This  work  at 
once  excited  attention,  and  called  forth  the  most  favourable  criti- 
cisms. It  was  hailed  as  the  production  of  one  who,  while  he 
thought  and  reasoned  like  a  true  sage,  wrote  and  illustrated  like 
a  true  poet.  The  pages  of  "  Proverbial  Philosophy "  are  full  of 
instruction  and  wisdom,  and  breathe  throughout  the  finest  spirit 
of  genuine  poetry.  Well  does  the  writer  of  this  sketch  remember 
the  pleasure  with  which  he  first  read  that  remarkable  production. 
He  was  then  connected  editorially  with  the  Metropolitan  Con- 
servative  Journal,  in  which  paper  the  first  series  was  reviewed 
at  length  at  the  time  of  its  appearance.  In  that  review,  the 
volume  was  described  as  "  a  work  abounding  in  rich  thoughts  and 
delicate  fancies, —  in  sound  philosophy,  and  high  moral  resolutions, 
and  which  may  be  read  over  and  over  again,  by  the  young  philo- 
sopher, or  poetical  dreamer,  with  equal  profit  and  delight."  And,  as 
if  writing  prophetically  of  the  proud  and  enviable  position  to  which 
Mr.  Tupper  was  yet  to  attain  in  literature,  the  reviewer  triumphantly 
asked, — "  Have  we  now  not  done  enough  to  show  that  a  poet  of 
power  and  promise, — a  poet  and  philosopher  both,  is  amongst  us  to 
delight  and  instruct  —  to  elevate  and  guide  ?  Do  we  err  in  saying 
that  a  fresh  leaf  is  added  to  the  laurel  crown  of  poetry?"  The 
praises  of  the  other  reviewers  were  no  less  enthusiastic,  and  no 
less  just.  "There  is  more  novelty  in  the  sentiments,"  said  the 
Monthly  Review,  "a  greater  sweep  of  subjects,  and  a  finer  sense 

•  Since  the  date  of  this  sketch  (1847),  Mr.  Tupper  has  had  conferred 
upon  him  the  degree  of  D.  C.  L.  of  the  University  of  Oxford. — Amebic aji 

PUBLISHEBS. 


MARTIN    i'.    T  UPPER.  XT 

of  moral  beauty  displayed  by  Mr.  Tapper,  than  we  remember  to 
have  seen  in  any  work  of  its  class,  excepting  of  course  the  Pro- 
verbs of  Solomon.  We  also  discover  in  his  Philosophy  the  stores 
of  extensive  reading,  and  the  indisputable  proofs  of  habitual  and 
devout  reflection,  as  well  as  the  workings  of  an  elegant  mind." 
The  work  met  with  unprecedented  success ;  and  six  large  editions 
of  it  have  been  sold.*  The  author  was  elected  a  Fellow  of  the 
Royal  Society  in  consequence  of  it.  He  had  already  shown  him- 
self to  be,  in  Shakspeare's  phrase,  "a  Fellow  of  Infinite  Wit," 
and,  we  may  add,  of  Wisdom  too.  The  King  of  Prussia,  in  token 
of  his  majesty's  high  approbation  of  "Proverbial  Philosophy," 
sent  him  the  gold  medal  for  science  and  literature.  The  work 
became  very  popular  in  the  United  States.  In  New  York  alone, 
we  are  informed,  ten  thousand  copies  were  sold  during  last  year, 
and  the  work  is  known  to  be  published  in  several  other  American 
cities.     Its  reputation  is  also  great  in  the  British  colonies. 

Mr.  Tapper's  next  work  was  "  Geraldine,  a  sequel  to  Cole- 
ridge's Christabel,  with  other  poems,"  published  in  1838;  of 
which  an  opinion  has  been  already  expressed  in  this  paper, — see 
No.  53,  of  Church  of  England  Journal.  The  ideal  plan  of 
the  Christabel  has  been  well  brought  out  by  Mr.  Tupper,  in  his 
Sequel;  and  it  is  no  small  praise  to  him  to  say,  that  the  wild 
and  original  spirit  that  pervades  it,  is  every  way  akin  to  the 
sublime  and  beautiful  inspiration  of  the  great  but  unfinished  puom 
of  Coleridge  itself.  The  minor  poems  contained  in  the  volume 
are  singularly  pleasing  and  graceful,  and  abound  in  touches  of 
real  beauty  and  genuine  feeling.  Besides  "  Ellen  Grey,"  already 
quoted  in  these  columns,  the  pieces  entitled  "The  Alpine  Elf;" 
"Children;"  "A  Cabinet  of  Fossils;"  "The  African  Desert;" 
and  some  of  the  Sonnets,  are  our  favourites,  although  all  are 
good. 

In  1839,  he  published,  "A  modem  Pyramid;  to  Commemorate 
a  Septuagint  of  Worthies;"  designed  to  furnish  illustrations  and 

*  The  tenth  edition  (of  6000  copies)  is  now  selling  in  London ;  and  in 
America  nearly  200,000  have  been  sold. — Auerican  Pdblibbebs. 


XVI  MARTIN    P.     TUPPER 

descriptions  of  character  of  seventy  of  the  most  remarkable  per- 
sonages of  sacred  and  profane  history,  ancient  and  modern.  Among 
them  are  some  of  the  patriarchs,  some  of  the  ancient  sages  of 
the  East,  some  of  the  most  noted  men  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
chiefly  philosophers  and  authors,  some  of  the  Apostles,  and  some 
of  the  most  remarkable  personages  of  the  middle  ages,  and  down- 
wards, in  the  stream  of  time,  to  the  present  century.  From  the 
nature  of  the  work,  and  its  limits  not  admitting  of  more  than 
seventy  names,  there  are,  of  course,  many  omissions;  but  each 
of  "  the  Worthies "  introduced  is  the  subject  of  a  sonnet,  and 
brief  biographical  sketch.  The  work  exhibits  all  the  peculiar 
qualities  of  Mr.  Tupper's  genius  and  style ;  high  poetic  feeling, 
fine  taste,  great  fertility  of  imagination,  and  boldness  of  opinion 
and  speculation;  with  profound  practical  thought,  extensive  and 
varied  learning,  a  general  knowledge  of  mankind  and  history,  and 
great  command  of  language.  In  this  volume,  too,  the  author 
appears  to  great  advantage,  as  a  zealous  defender  of  the  Faith, 
as  held  and  taught  by  the  Church  of  England. 

In  1840,  Mr.  Tupper  produced  a  pleasant  volume  of  odds  and 
ends,  called,  "An  Author's  Mind."  Among  the  contents  are 
pieces  entitled,  "  The  Author's  Mind,  a  ramble ; "  "  Nero,  a 
tragedy;"  "Opium,  a  history;"  " Psycotherion,  an  argument;" 
"Heathenism,  an  Apology;"  "Woman,  a  subject;"  "Toilomas- 
trix,  a  title ; "  "  Appendix,  an  after-thought ; "  "  Home,  an  Epic ;  " 
&c.  Some  poems  of  remarkable  beauty  are  also  introduced,  with 
great  effect,  among  the  other  pieces  which  compose  this  agreeable 
collection  of  "gaieties  and  gravities." 

]Mr.  Tupper's  next  work,  a  rural  novel,  entitled  "  The  Crock 
of  Gold,"  designed  to  illustrate  the  commandment  "Thou  shalt 
not  kill,"  as  well  as  to  show  the  curse  and  hardening  effect  of 
avarice,  was  published  in  1844.  It  is  a  simple  tale,  very  beautifully 
told;  but  nevertheless  full  of  an  extraordinary  interest  and  attrac- 
tion ;  one  of  those  books  indeed,  which  by  its  wit  and  pathos,  its 
deep  insight  into  human  passions,  and  its  powerful  delineations 


MARTIN    F.    TUPPER.  XVU 

of  virtue  and  crime,  enchain  the  attention  of  the  reader  till  he 
has  finished  its  perusal,  and  leave  behind  a  strong  but  wholesome 
and  salutary  impression  on  the  mind.  The  plot  purports  to  be 
the  history  of  a  poor  labourer  and  his  family,  who  from  a  life 
of  peaceful  and  contented  drudgery,  became  discontented  and  repining, 
and  were  gradually  involved^  in  sore  trials  and  serious  troubles. 
The  principal  characters  of  the  story  are  honest  Roger  Acton,  the 
luckless  finder  of  "  the  Crock  of  Gold,"  his  pure  and  simple-hearted 
daughter  Grace,  her  lover  Jonathan,  Simon  Jennings  the  murderer, 
his  aunt  Bridget  Quarles,  and  Ben  Burke,  the  poacher.  The  murder 
of  Bridget  by  Jennings,  is  very  graphically  described;  and  the 
chapter  headed  "  Next  Morning,"  being  that  following  the  murder 
Bcene,  is  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  writing  in  modern  literature. 
The  "Crock  of  Gold"  is  very  popular  in  America;  and  'it  has 
been  repeatedly  dramatized  and  acted  with  success.  In  this  coun- 
try it  has  been  extensively  read. 

The  same  year  (1844)  Mr.  Tupper  published  two  other  works 
of  fiction,  in  one  volume  each ;  namely,  "  Heart.  A  social  novel; " 
and  "The  Twins.  A  Domestic  Novel."  The  main  design  of 
these  works  appears  to  have  been,  upon  something  better  than  a 
mere  sketchy  foundation  in  each,  to  introduce  some  exciting  scenes, 
and  some  episodial  bursts  of  hearty  religious  writing;  and  they, 
more  or  less,  illustrate,  the  one  the  commandment  "thou  shalt 
not  commit  adultery,"  and  the  other  that  of  "thou  shalt  not 
covet."  The  twofold  object  of  the  author  in  the  two  stories  — 
that  is,  the  depicturing  of  virtue  and  vice  in  their  appropriate 
colours,  and  that  as  strongly  as  possible,  and  the  pointing  the 
moral,  of  each  obtaining  in  due  course  its  appropriate  reward  — 
is  powerfully  worked  out  in  both;  and  as  one  of  the  most  dis- 
criminating and  competent  critics  who  reviewed  them  said  :  — "  In 
every  page  there  is  something  which  a  reader  would  wish  to  bear 
in  his  memory  for  ever.  For  power  of  animated  description,  for 
eloquent  reflection  upon  the  events  of  every-day  life,  and  for  soft, 
touching,  pathetic  appeals  to  the  best  feelings  of  the  heart,  the 
2 


Xviu  MARTIN    F.    TUPPEE. 

volumes  are  worthy  of  a  place  on  every  library  table  In  the  king- 
dom." The  same  reviewer  says,  very  justly,  of  Mr.  Tupper's 
style:  "There  is  a  genuine,  hearty,  straightforward,  downright- 
ness  about  him  that  brings  him  right  on  the  mark  at  once.  His 
sentences  are  neither  long,  laboured,  nor  parenthetical,  but  they 
are  animated  by  a  fine  racy  idiomatfc  vigorousness  of  style  that 
impresses  their  meaning  on  the  mind  and  memory.  He  forms, 
as  it  were,  a  sort  of  half-way  house  between  Dickens  and  Carlyle. 
Without  the  regularly  sustained  power  of  Boz,  he  has  much  of 
his  picturesqueness  in  description  and  his  pathos;  and,  without 
his  eccentricity,  he  possesses  no  slight  portion  of  the  full-toned 
energy  and  characteristic  raciness  of  the  author  of  *  Sartor  Eesartus.' " 
Of  such  works  as  these  three  novels  of  Mr.  Tupper,  we  hope  yet 
to  see  many  more  specimens  from  his  graphic  pen. 

His  next  work,  published  in  1845,  is  entitled  "A  Thousand 
Lines,"  a  little  tract  of  but  sixty  pages,  containing  poems  on 
various  subjects,  written  in  his  most  captivating  manner.  Thought 
vigorous  and  fruitful,  imagery  vivid  and  beautiful,  feeling  warm 
and  unaffected,  clothed  in  language  strong,  hearty,  and  emphatic, 
or  soft,  pathetic,  and  musical,  as  the  theme  or  the  rhythm  required, 
with  an  originality  that  cannot  fail  to  be  acknowledged  in  them 
all,  are  the  characteristics  of  the  verses  of  this  little  book.  A 
new  version  of  "  Rule  Britannia ! "  a  stirring  song  for  patriots  in 
the  year  1860,  has  in  it  a  genuine  fervent  English  spirit  and 
tone,  that  make  the  very  heart  bound  when  perusing  it.  "The 
Emigrant  Ship "  is  indeed  an  exquisite  little  lyric,  full  of  delicate 
pathos,  and  instinct  with  gentle  music;  and  a  sound  and  high 
Bouled  spirit  of  philosophy  breathes  in  the  noble  and  cheering 
stanzas  entitled  "  Never  Give  Up ! " 

The  last  published  work  of  Mr.  Tupper  is  called  "Probabilities, 
an  Aid  to  Faith,"  issued  in  January  last;  resembling  in  idea  the 
"  Analogy "  of  Butler,  but  much  simpler  in  detail,  and  altogether 
Independent  and  original  in  argument  and  illustration.  This  small 
but  valuable   and  instructive   volume   we    have   noticed   to-day. 


MARTIN    F,    TUPPEE.  JOX 

Besides  the  works  mentioned,  Mr.  Tupper  published  in  1838,  "  A 
Coronation  Ode,  and  Sonnets,"  which,  like  all  his  poetry,  display 
much  poetic  genius  and  great  power  of  versification.* 

In  appearance,  Mr.  Tupper  is,  we  believe,  about  the  middle 
Bze ;  young-looking,  and  well  favoured ;  with  black  hair,  cheerful 
aspect,  and  cordial  manner.  Both  in  his  deportment  and  in  his 
writings,  he  has  all  the  elements  of  popularity.  Of  the  formeri 
however,  the  writer  of  this  sketch  cannot  speak  from  personal 
knowledge,  as  he  is  altogether  unacquainted  with  him.  With 
the  latter  he  is  quite  familiar.  His  usual  residence  is  at  Albury, 
Surrey;  but  he  has  also  a  seat  at  Furzehill,  near  Brighton. 

*  "  Hactenus,"  and  a  quantity  of  other  occasional  lyrics  and  prose  pieces, 
with  "  King  Alfred's  own  poems,"  translated  from  the  Anglo-Saxon,  have 
appeared  since  the  publication  of  this  sketch. — Ahebican  Publisheks. 


StMrotioiL 


TO  ALL  FRIENDS. 

A  hook  of  many  thoughts  in  mingled  measures : 
Songs  of  my  Heart,  attuned  through  many  a  year 
From  time  to  time  a  silent  hour  to  cheer; 

Unguarded  tell-tales  of  mine  inner  pleasures^ 
High  hopes,  and  joys  most  deep,  and  loves  most  dear ; 

What  tcelcome  shall  we  find?  —  JVeglect? — Reproof  9 

Jt  sullen  pride  that  coldly  holds  aloof? 

Ab,  Friends !  not  such  will  be  my  welcome  here : 

From  heart  to  heart  I  speak,  from  love  to  love. 
With  kindly  words  that  kindliness  inspire, 
Frankly,  confidingly ;  no  fear,  no  fear 
But  love  shall  be  your  greeting  to  my  lyre  ; 

For,  through  the  mercies  lent  me  from  above, 
I  warm  your  hearts^  O  Friends !  with  holy  fire. 


(xxl) 


TUPEEK'S 
POETICAL  WORKS. 

€n  \\t  SLninii. 

FROM    A    UNIT. 

Giant  aggregate  of  nations, 

Glorious  Whole  of  glorious  Parta^ 
Unto  endless  generations 

Live  United,  bands  and  hearts  I 
Be  it  storm,  or  summer-weather, 

Peaceful  calm,  or  battle-jar. 
Stand  in  beauteous  strength  together, 

Sister  States,  as  Now  yo  arel 

Every  petty  class-dissension 

Heal  it  up,  as  quick  as  thought, 
Every  paltry  place-pretension. 

Crush  it,  as  a  thing  of  nought; 
Let  no  narrow  private  treason    . 

Your  great  onward  progress  bar, 
But  remain,  in  right  and  reason, 

Sister  States,  as  Now  ye  arel 


(18) 


14  TOTHE    UNION. 

Fling  away  absurd  ambition ! 

People,  leave  that  toy  to  kings; 
Envy,  jealousy,  suspicion. 

Be  above  such  grovelling  things  I 
In  each  other's  joys  delighted, 

All  your  hate  be — joys  of  war, 
And  by  all  means  keep  United, 

Sister  States,  as  Now  ye  are  I 

Were  I  but  some  scornful  stranger, 

Still  my  counsel  would  be  just; 
Break  the  band,  and  all  is  danger. 

Mutual  fear,  and  dark  distrust: 
But,  you  know  me  for  a  brother 

And  a  friend  who  speak  from  farj 
Be  at  one  then  with  each  other. 

Sister  States,  as  Now  ye  are  I 

If  it  seems  a  thing  unholy 

Freedom's  soil  by  slaves  to  till. 
Yet  be  just !  and  sagely,  slowly, 

Nobly,  cure  that  ancient  ill: 
Slowly, — haste  is  fatal  ever; 

Nobly,  —  lest  good  faith  ye  mar; 
Sagely,  —  not  in  wrath  to  sever 

Sister  States,  as  Now  ye  are! 

Charm'd  with  your  commingled  beauty 

England  sends  the  signal  round, 
"Every  man  must  do  his  duty" 

To  redeem  from  bonds  the  bound  ! 
Then  indeed  your  banner's  brightness 

Shining  clear  from  every  star 
Shall  proclaim  your  joint  uprightness, 

Sister  States,  as  Now  ye  are! 


TO    THE    UNION.  11 


So,  a  peerless  constellation 

May  those  stars  for  ever  blaze  I 
Three-and-ten-times-threefold  nation, 

Go  ahead  in  power  and  praise  ! 
Like  the  many-breasted  goddess 

Throned  on  her  Ephesian  car 
Be — one  heart  in  many  bodies  I 

Sister  States,  as  Now  ye  are. 


€^  Ingln-lflinn  %m, 

▲  KHTHE  FOR  ENGLISHUEN. 

Stretch  forth !  stretch  forth !  from  the  south  to  the  north  I 
From  the  east  to  the  west,  —  stretch  forth  I  stretch  forth  I 
Strengthen  thy  stakes,  and  lengthen  thy  cords, — 
The  world  is  a  tent  for  the  world's  true  lords ! 
Break  forth  and  spread  over  every  place. 
The  world  is  a  world  for  the  Saxon  Race! 

England  sowed  the  glorious  seed, 

In  her  wise  old  laws,  and  her  pure  old  creed. 

And  her  stout  old  heart,  and  her  plain  old  tongue, 

And  her  resolute  energies,  ever  young, 

And  her  free  bold  hand,  and  her  frank  fair  face, 

And  her  faith  in  the  rule  of  the  Saxon  BAce! 

Feebly  dwindling  day  by  day, 

All  other  races  are  fading  away; 

The  sensual  South,  and  the  servile  East, 

And  the  tottering  throne  of  the  treacherous  priest, 

And  every  land  is  in  evil  case 

But  the  wide-scatter'd  realm  of  the  Saxon  Racel 


m  THE    ANGLO-SAXON    RAOS. 

Englishmen  everywhere !  brethren  all  I 

By  one  great  name  on  your  millions  I  call,— • 

Norman,  American,  Gael,  and  Celt, 

Into  this  fine  mixed  mass  ye  melt. 

And  all  the  best  of  your  best  I  trace 

In  the  golden  brass  of  the  Saxon  Race  I 

Englishmen  everywhere !  faithful  and  free  I 

Lords  of  the  land,  and  kings  of  the  sea, — 

Anglo-Saxons !  honest  and  true, 

By  hundreds  of  millions  my  word  is  to  you,^ 

Love  one  another !  as  brothers  embrace ! 

That  the  world  may  be  blest  in  the  Saxon  Bacel 


1851. 

A  STAVI  OF  INVITATION. 

For  happiness,  unity,  plenty,  and  peace, 

And  brotherhood  over  the  world. 
For  loves  to  increase,  and  dissensions  to  cease, 

And  war's  bloody  flag  to  be  furl'd. 
Come,  gather  together  with  hearty  good  will, 

In  the  warmth  of  a  generous  mind. 
And  bring  us  the  best  of  your  strength  and  your  skill, 

To  bless  and  to  better  mankind! 

Let  quicken'd  invention  its  secret  impart 

The  body  to  succour  in  need; 
Let  taste  and  high  breeding,  and  delicate  art. 

The  mind  with  their  melodies  feed: 


THK    VAMILY     OATHEBINO. 

Let  just  emulation  and  genius  be  glad 

To  join  in  the  liberal  strife 
Which  seals  to  the  world  all  the  wealth  that  it  had. 

And  adds  to  the  blessings  of  life. 

So,  gather  together!  your  leader  and  Prince, 

With  many  a  true  man  beside, 
Has  set  up  this  standard  the  world  to  convince 

That  commerce  and  love  are  allied : 
For  Man,  of  all  nations  and  kindreds,  is  one. 

And  heartily  well  is  it  worth, 
Thus  kindly  to  cause  in  the  sight  of  the  sun 

A  Family  Meeting  of  Earth ! 


A    BALLAD    FOR    1851. 

A  VOICE  of  happy  greeting  to  the  Nations  of  the  World ! 
A  Flag  of  peace  for  every  shore,  on  every  sea,  unfurl'd ! 
A  Word  of  brotherhood  and  love  to  each  who  hears  the  call,— 
A  Welcome  to  the  World  of  Men,  a  Welcome,  one  and  all ! 

O  children  of  a  common  stock,  O  brothers  all  around, 

In  kindliness  and  sympathy  receive  the  joyful  sound; 

Old  England  bids  you  welcome  all,  and  wins  you  to  her  shore, 

To  see  how  men  of  every  clime  may  help  each  other  more. 

Old  England  greets  you  lovingly,  as  friend  should  greet  a  friend, 
And  only  prays  that  peaceful  days  may  never  have  an  end; 
And  only  hopes,  by  doing  good,  the  good  of  all  to  gain, 
And  so  Goodwill  from  brethren  still,  right  gladly  to  attain! 


18        England's  welcome  to  the  world. 

Gome  on  then  to  this  Tournament,  of  Peace,  and  skilful  Art, 
Come  on,  fair  Europe's  chivalry,  and  play  the  Bayard's  parti 
For  honour,  Austria,  spur  away !  for  honour,  gentle  France  I 
For  honour,  Euss,  and  Swede,  and  Turk,  —  come  on  with  levell'd 
lance! 

Gome  on  amain,  high-hearted  Spain !  industrious  Holland,  come ! 
Italy,  Persia,  Greece,  and  Ind,  —  fill  up  the  Nations'  sum ! 
And  chiefly  with  us,  heart  to  heart,  come  on,  and  tilt  for  fame, 
Golumbia,  —  thou  that  England  art  in  everything  but  name ! 

Not,  as  long  since,  for  deeds  of  death,  —  but  deeds  to  gladden  life  • 
Provoking  each  for  others'  good  to  join  the  generous  strife ! 
As  in  those  games  at  Pytho,  or  in  old  Nemaea's  grove, 
Where  Graecia's  best  and  worthiest  for  honour  only  strove. 

Come,  wrestle  thus  in  peace  with  us,  and  vie  for  glory's  prize, 
Bring  out  your  wares  of  rarest  work,  and  wealthiest  merchandise  j 
Let  every  Craft  of  every  clime  produce  its  brilliant  best. 
The  dazzling  zone  of  Venus,  and  Minerva's  starry  crest ! 

Let  Science  add  the  miracles  that  human  reason  works 
When  tracking  out  the  Mind  of  God  that  in  all  Nature  lurks,— 
The  Wonderful,  that  He  hath  made  Beneficent  to  man, 
And  gives  us  wit  to  fathom  it,  and  use  it  as  we  can ! 

O  there  are  secrets  choice  and  strange,  that  men  have  not  found  outj 
Though  up  and  down  the  earth  we  range,  and  forage  round  about, 
The  hidden  things  of  Mercy's  heart,  the  Beautiful-Sublime, 
That  God  hath  meant  to  cheer  us  on  adown  the  stream  of  Time : 

Adown  the  stream  of  Time,  until — we  reach  that  happier  shore, 
Where  sin  and  pain  come  not  again,  and  grief  is  grief  no  more ; 
For  that,  0  nations,  wisely  strive  to  do  all  good  you  can, 
And,  gratefully  as  unto  God,  live  brotherly  with  Man! 


A    HYMN    FOR    ALL    NATIONS. 


%  Ipn  for  fill  Sotions.    1851. 

TRANSLATED   INTO   THIRTY   LANGUAGES. 

Glorious  Grod!  on  Thee  we  call, 
Father,  Friend,  and  Judge  of  all; 
Holy  Saviour,  heavenly  King, 
Homage  to  Thy  throne  we  bring  I 

In  the  wonders  all  around 
Ever  is  Thy  Spirit  found. 
And  of  each  good  thing  we  see 
All  the  good  is  bom  of  Thee! 

Thine  the  beauteous  skill  that  lurks 
Everywhere  in  Nature's  works; 
Thine  is  Art,  with  all  its  worth, 
Thine  each  masterpiece  on  earth! 

Yea,  and  foremost  in  the  van 
Springs  from  Thee  the  Mind  of  Man; 
On  its  light,  for  this  is  thine, 
Shed  abroad  the  love  divine! 

Lo,  our  God!  Thy  children  here 

From  all  realms  are  gather'd  near, 

"Wisely  gather'd, — gathering  still — 

For  peace  on  earth,  towards  men  good-will! 

Jlay  wc,  with  fraternal  mind. 
Bless  our  brothers  of  mankind; 
May  we,  through  redeeming  love, 
Be  the  blest  of  God  above  I 


A  WORD  FOR  THE  OREGON  MISSION. 

%  B3nrli  far  tljE  (Drrgnn  SHissinu. 

Push  on !  to  earth's  extremest  verge,— 

And  plant  the  Gospel  there, 
Till  wide  Pacific's  angry  surge 

Is  soothed  by  Christian  prayer; 
Advance  the  standard,  conquering  van, 

And  urge  the  triumph  on. 
In  zeal  for  God  and  love  of  man, 

To  distant  Oregon! 

Faint  not,  0  soldier  of  the  cross, 

Its  standard-bearer  thou! 
All  California's  gold  is  dross 

To  what  thou  winnest  now ! 
A  vast  new  realm,  wherein  to  search 

For  truest  treasure  won, 
God's  jewels, —  in  his  infant  church 

Of  new-bom  Oregon. 

Thou  shalt  not  fail,  thou  shalt  not  fall! 

The  gracious  living  Word 
Hath  said  of  every  land,  that  all 

Shall  glorify  the  Lord : 
He  shall  be  served  from  East  to  West, 

Yea — to  the  setting  sun, — 
And  Jesu's  name  be  loved  and  blest 

In  desert  Oregon. 

Then,  Brothers !  help  in  this  good  deed, 

And  side  with  God  to-day! 
Stand  by  His  servant  now,  to  speed 

His  apostolic  way : 
Bethlehem's  ever-leading  star 

In  mercy  guides  him  on 
To  light  with  holy  fire  from  fiur 

The  Star  of  Oregon. 


OUK    VOYAaS. 


WRITTEN  ON  BOAKD  THE  ASIA,  BY  REQUEST. 

Count  up  with  me  our  mercies  manifest 
My  brother  voyagers;  that  God  hath  sped 
Our  wandering  steps,  in  safety  hither  led, 

Strong  in  His  strength,  and  with  His  bounty  blest. 

0,  how  can  half  the  perils  be  exprest 

That  He  hath  spared  us  on  this  prosperous  way? 

No  evil  hath  come  near  us,  to  deform 
One  pleasant  night,  or  one  luxurious  day, 
No  traitor  rock,  no  fierce  tyrannic  storm : 

But,  as,  at  night,  bell  echoing  answered  bell 

Like  neighbouring  village  clocks,  the  cheering  word 

Ever  was  wafted  in  response,  "  All 's  well !" 

Thank  God !  that  thus  His  ready  grace  hath  heard 

Our  pray'rs,  though  few  and  feeble,  truth  to  telll 

And,  meekly  think  how  many  better  men 

Havo  gone  this  way  in  famine  and  in  fear, 
Yet,  after  all  their  toils,  had  laboured  then 

Vainly, — for  Death  hath  feasted  on  them  here! 
O  think  how  gulph'd  away  from  human  ken 

Thousands  have  struggled  in  yon  yeasty  waves, 
As  gloomily,  around  some  staggering  wreck, 
Yawn'd  the  black  throats  of  those  Atlantic  graves! 

We  the  while,  pacing  this  high-terraced  deck, 
Like  proud  triumphant  despots  of  the  deep, 

Set  our  calm  feet  on  Ocean's  vassal  neck; 

And  day  or  night,  in  pastimes  or  in  sleep, 
With  ease  and  skill  and  mammoth-muscled  force 
Speed  to  the  goal  of  our  victorious  course ! 


\ 


THE   OLD    AND    THK    NEW. 

€^i  (Dl^  null  tjjB  Mtm. 

Shall  it  be  with  a  tear  or  a  smile,  Old  World, 
That  I  bid  you  farewell  for  awhile,  Old  World, 

Shall  you  and  I  part 

With  a  pang  at  the  heart, 
Or  in  cold-blooded  stoical  style,  Old  World? 

In  truth,  it  must  be  with  a  tear.  Old  World, 
For  much  that  is  near  and  is  dear,  Old  World  1 

The  lingering  mind 

Looka  sadly  behind 
In  doubt  and  reluctance  and  fear,  Old  World. 

Yet  ever,  by  land  and  by  sea,  Old  World, 
God  helps  us  wherever  we  be.  Old  World; 

My  babes  He  will  keep 

Awake  or  asleep, 
And  happily  travel  with  me,  Old  World  I 

So  thus  with  a  spirit  at  rest,.  New  World, 

I  seek  your  bright  shores  of  the  West,  New  Worldl 

With  hearty  good  will 

My  work  to  fulfil, 
And  do  what  I  do  for  the  best.  New  Worldl 

Gratefully  here  for  a  space,  New  World, 

Shall  I  bask  in  the  sun  of  thy  face,  New  World, 

Wherever  I  roam 

To  feel  always  at  home. 
With  brothers  in  every  place.  New  World. 

No  dignified  dulness  to  freeze.  New  World, 
But  cordial  kindness  and  ease,  New  World, 

Invite  me  to  stand. 

With  my  heart  in  my  hand, 
To  give  it  wherever  I  please,  New  World. 


A  WORD    ON    AREIVAL. 


51  Wmt  n  5lrrmfll. 

WHITTKN  IN  NEW  TORE  HAHBOITR,  ON  BOARD  THE  ASIA. 

Not  with  cold  scorn,  or  ill-dissembled  sneer, 

Ungraciously  your  kindly  looks  to  greet. 
By  God's  good  favour  safely  wafted  here. 
After  long  hope  and  promise  many  a  year, 

0  friends  and  brothers,  face  to  face  we  meet. 

Now,  for  a  little  space,  my  willing  feet 

Shall  tread  your  happy  shores;  my  heart  and  voice 
Four  kindred  love  shall  quicken  and  shall  cheer; 

While  in  your  greatness  shall  my  soul  rejoice— 
For  you  are  England's  nearest  and  most  dear! 

SufiFer  my  simple  fervours  to  do  good, 
As  one  poor  pilgrim  haply  may  and  can. 

Who,  knit  to  heaven  and  earth  by  gratitude, 
Speaks  from  his  heart,  to  touch  his  brother  man. 


Mm  BnlA 

A   SONG   FOR   THE   ANTIPODES. 

Queen  of  the  South !  which  the  mighty  Pacific 

Claims  for  its  Britain  in  ages  to  be, 
Bright  with  fair  visions  and  hopes  beatific. 

Glorious  and  happy  thy  future  I  see ! 
Thither  the  children  of  England  are  thronging, 

There  for  true  riches  securely  to  search; 
Not  for  thy  gold,  California,  longing. 

But  for  sweet  home,  with  enough,  and  a  Church  I 
8 


24  NEW    ZEALAND. 

There,  a  soft  clime  and  a  soil  ever  teeming, 

Summer's  December,  and  Winter's  July, 
The  bright  Southern  Cross  in  the  firmament  gleaming. 

The  Dove,  and  the  Crown,  and  the  Altar  on  high,- 
There,  the  broad  praines  with  forest  and  river, 

There,  the  safe  harbours  are  bidding  men  search 
For  Thy  best  blessings,  0  Heavenly  Giver ! 

Home,  with  enough,  and  an  Englishman's  Church  I 

Yea;  for  Britannia,  the  Mother  of  Nations, 

Sends  out  her  children,  as  teeming  old  Greece, 
Good  men  and  great  men,  to  stand  in  their  stations, 

Merchants  of  plenty,  and  heralds' of  peace: 
Stout  Anglo-Saxons !  Port  Victory  calls  you ; 

Take  the  glad  omen,  and  speedily  search 
Where  you  shall  gather,  whatever  befals  you, 

Truest  of  treasures,  a  Home  and  a  Church ! 

Fifty  years  hence — look  forward  and  see  it, 

Kealm  of  New  Zealand,  what  then  shalt  thou  see? 
(If  the  world  lives,  at  The  Father's  So  be  it,) 

All  shall  be  greatness  and  glory  with  thee ! 
Even  should  Britain's  decay  be  down-written 

In  the  dread  doom-book  that  no  man  may  search, 
Still  shall  an  Oxford,  a  London,  a  Britain, 

Gladden  the  South  with  a  Home  and  a  Church  I 


Cnntfrhri}  ^^ilgrima. 


'GOD  SP££D. 


Heaven  speed  you,  noble  band! 
Link'd  together,  heart  and  hand, 
Sworn  to  seek  that  far-off  land, 

Canterbury  pilgrims,- 


CANTERBURY    PILGRIMS.  2fi 

Heaven  speed  you!  brothers  brave, 
Waft  you  well  by  wind  and  wave; 
Heaven  shield  you !  Heaven  save ! 

Canterbury  pilgrims. 

Like  a  Queen  of  swarming  bees, 
England,  hived  amid  the  seas, 
Sends  you  by  a  favouring  breeze, 

Canterbury  pilgrims, 
With  a  mother's  tender  care, 
To  her  Southern  sister  there, 
Her  young  sister,  fresh  and  fair, 

Canterbury  pilgrims! 

Fresh  the  soil,  and  fair  the  clime, 
Lightly  touch'd  by  toil  or  time, 
Scarcely  tinged  with  care  or  crime, 

Canterbury  pilgrims,— 
Go  then,  cheerfully  go  forth  I 
Hasten  to  replenish  earth 
With  Old  England's  honest  worth, 

Canterbury  pilgrims ! 

Aye  —  with  industry — for  gold. 
Godliness — for  wealth  untold, 
Go,  in  Christian  duty  bold, 

Canterbury  pilgrims,^ 
Glad  New  Zealand  bids  you  share 
Each  man  plenty,  and  to  spare, — 
God  be  with  you  then  and  there, 

Canterbury  pilgrims  1 


SONNET. 


Innnrt. 

BT  WAT  or   POSTSCRIPT. 

Go  forth,  in  faith  and  patience,  hope  and  lovel 
But  think  not,  voyagers,  to  leave  behind 
Ills  of  the  flesh  or  passions  of  the  mind, 

Nor  to  anticipate  the  bliss  above 

In  this  new  home :  for  evil  must  be  there, 
Evil,  that  sails  alike  on  every  wind. 

In  spite  of  all  your  caution,  all  your  care: 

Then  be  ye  tolerant;  let  no  stem  soul. 
However  right  his  ethics  or  his  life. 

Over  the  weaker  brothers  claim  control, 
Stirring  the  flock  to  bitterness  of  strife: 

Honour  man's  conscience;  from  all  shackles  loose 
The  honest  mind  with  freedom's  instinct  rife : 

Take  the  Church  with  you,  but  no  church-abuse. 


▲N  ILLUSTRATION. 

Triple  blessings  on  the  plough, 
Triple  blessings  on  the  fleece ! 

Heaven's  Angel  send  you  now 
To  be  fruitful  and  increase : 

"So  your  country  shall  remain," 
And  all  happiness  be  pour'd 

Upon  Canterbury  plain. 

From  the  LobdI 


THE    CANTERBUBY    SEAL.  27 

Triple  blessings  on  the  fleece, 

Triple  blessings  on  the  plough! 
For  beneath  the  Cross  of  Peace 

All  your  toil  is  hallovr'd  now: 
While  the  Church,  in  sacred  robe, 

Is  your  help  on  either  hand. 
As  the  pillars  of  the  globe 
Ye  shall  stand ! 


Contain,  tn  (C^nkralik. 

A   KESSAGE  OF  FEACB. 

Sister  Empress,  daughter  dear. 
Throned  on  yonder  hemisphere. 
With  a  grand  career  to  run 
Glorious  as  thy  western  sun. 
Sister,  Daughter  —  we  are  one  I 

One,  in  stories  of  the  past. 
One,  in  glories,  still  to  last. 
One  in  speech,  and  one  in  face. 
One  in  honest  pride  of  race, 
One  in  faith,  and  hope,  and  grace  I 

Sister,  we  have  sinn'd  of  old. 
Both  of  us,  through  lust  of  goldj 
We,  for  centuries,  you,  for  years, 
Undismay'd  by  judgment  fears. 
Throve  on  —  human  woes  and  tears! 

Verily,  our  brothers'  blood 
Whelm'd  us  in  its  crimson  flood! 
Yet,  at  last  we  turn'd,  and  gaye. 
As  a  ransom  from  the  grave, 
Boyal  freedom  to  the  slave! 


2ft  BEITAIN    TO    COLUMBIA. 

Britain's  penitential  zeal 
Let  it  work  Columbia's  weal; 
Wisely  hasten,  as  thou  wilt, 
Soon  to  wash  away  this  guilt  — 
Man  in  chains,  and  life-blood  spilt! 

We  are  mute, —  we  may  not  chide; 
Only  pray  thee,  put  aside 
That  which  must  be  bane  to  thee, 
If,  as  Christian,  Strong,  and  Free, 
Thou  endure  it  still  to  be. 

Yet,  in  frankness,  we  confess 
We  made  too  much  haste,  to  bless  j 
Not  at  once,  be  well  assured. 
But  with  gradual  health  allured, 
Can  this  chronic  plague  be  cured. 

Through  the  wisdom  of  to-day 
We  have  learnt  a  better  way; 
Sister, — it  is  thine  own  plan ! 
Take  the  poor  degraded  man. 
Teach  him  kindly  all  you  can, — 

Then,  with  liberal  hand,  restore 
To  his  own  Liberian  shore 
This  poor  son  of  wrong  and  night, 
Newly  blest  with  hope  and  light, 
And  the  patriot  freeman's  Eight  I 

So  shall  Africa  blockade 

Bloodlessly  that  dreadful  trade: 

And  Liberia's  "open  door," 

School,  and  Church,  and  merchanf^store, 

Bless  her  children  evermore. 


DIEU    ET   MON  DROIT. 


SiBtt,  rt  mnn  ©rail 

A   LOT.\X,   TEXT. 

No  fanciful  hope,  and  no  cowardly  fear 

Shall  ever  be  lord  of  my  breast, 
An  Englishman  gathers  his  comfort  and  cheer 

From  Duty  by  Providence  blest; 
The  good  royal  motto,  from  Normandy  won, 

Upholds  him  by  day  and  by  night, 
Adversity's  moon,  and  prosperity's  sun, 

Are  shining  in  "God  and  my  Right!" 

My  God!  the  great  guard,  the  good  ruler,  and  friend, 

Who  made  me,  and  guides  as  He  will; 
BIy  Right !  which  His  government  helps  to  defend, 

And  bids  me  stand  up  for  it  still : 
The  heart  that  has  trusted  Him  well  does  He  love, 

And  fills  it  with  heavenly  light. 
Rejoiced  upon  earth  with  all  peace  from  above, 

And  resting  on  "God  and  my  Right!" 

My  Right  —  the  right  way,  and  my  Right  —  the  right  arm^ 

And  my  Right  —  the  true  rights  of  the  case, — 
Strong,  honest,  deserving,  the  triple-tied  charm 

That  keeps  a  man  firm  in  his  place; 
With  these  well  about  us,  and  God  overhead. 

We  fear  not  whatever  we  fight, 
There  never  was  mortal  who  fail'd  or  who  fled. 

Whose  motto  was,  "God  and  my  Right!" 


THE    GREAT    EXHIBITION    OP    1851. 


€!iB  toot  (l^iljiliitintt  nf  1851. 

A  BALLAD   FOR  THE  •WORKMAN. 

Hurrah  !  for  honest  Industry,  hurrah  !  for  handy  skill, 
Hurrah  !  for  all  the  wondrous  w^orks  achieved  by  Wit  and  Will  I 
The  triumph  of  the  Artizan  has  come  about  at  length, 
And  Kings  and  Princes  flock  to  praise  his  comeliness  and  strength. 

Now  is  the  time,  the  blessed  time,  for  brethren  to  agree, 

And  rich  and  poor  of  every  clime  at  unity  to  be ; 

When  Labour  honour'd  openly,  and  not  alone  by  stealth, 

With  homy  hand  and  glowing  heart  may  greet  his  brother  Wealth. 

Aye,  wealth  and  rank  are  labour's  kin,  twin  brethren  all  his  own, 
For  every  high  estate  on  earth,  of  labour  it  hath  grown  ', 
By  duty  and  by  prudence,  and  by  study's  midnight  oil. 
The  wealth  of  all  the  world  is  won  by  God-rewarded  toil  I 

Then  hail !  thou  goodly  Gathering,  thou  brotherhood  indeed  I 
Where  all  the  sons  of  men  can  meet  as  honest  Labour's  seed ; 
The  tribes  of  turban'd  Asia,  and  Afric's  ebon  skin, 
And  Europe  and  America,  with  all  their  kith  and  kin ! 

From  East  and  West,  from  North  and  South,  to  England's  happy 

coast 
By  tens  of  thousands,  lo !  they  come,  the  great  industrial  host, — 
By  tens  of  thousands  welcom'd  for  their  handicraft  and  worth, 
Behold  they  greet  their  brethren  of  the  Workshop  of  the  Earth. 

Kight  gladly,  brother  workmen,  will  each  English  Artizan 
Rejoice  to  make  you  welcome  all,  as  honest  man  to  man. 
And  teach,  if  aught  he  has  to  teach,  and  learn  the  much  to  learn, 
And  show  to  men  in  every  land,  how  all  the  world  may  earn  ! 


THE    QREAT    EXHIBITION    OF    1851.  U 

Whatever  earth,  man's  heritage,  of  every  sort  can  yield, 

From  mine  and  mountain,  sea  and  air,  from  forest  and  from  field  j 

Whatever  reason,  God's  great  gift,  can  add  or  take  away. 

To  bring  the  worth  of  all  the  world  beneath  the  human  sway  j 

Whatever  science  hath  found  out,  and  industry  hath  earn'd. 
And  taste  hath  delicately  touch'd,  and  high-bVed  art  hath  leam'dj 
Whatever  God's  good  handicraft,  the  man  He  made,  hath  made, 
By  man,  God's  earnest  artizan,  the  best  shall  be  display'd  ! 

0  think  it  not  an  idle  show,  for  praise,  or  pride,  or  pelf, 
No  man  on  earth  who  gains  a  good  can  hide  it  for  himself  j 
By  any  thought  that  any  thing  can  any  how  improve. 
We  help  along  the  cause  of  all,  and  give  the  world  a  move ! 

It  is  a  great  and  glorious  end  to  bless  the  sons  of  man, 
And  meet  for  peace  and  doing  good,  in  kindness  while  we  can; 
It  is  a  greater  and  more  blest,  the  Human  Heart  to  raise 
Up  to  the  God  who  giveth  all,  with  gratitude  and  praise  I 


€jiB  port's  Mmm. 


A  PROTEST. 


Not  to  flatter  kings, 

Not  to  serve  a  Court, 
Bent  on  nobler  things 

Than  tc  make  them  sport; 
Loyal,  gentle,  kind, 

Yet  honest,  frank,  and  free, 
Pure  in  life  and  mind, 

Must  the  poet  be! 


THE    poet's    mission. 

Meekness  at  his  heart, 

Though  triumph  on  his  brow, 
Well  to  do  his  part 

Is  his  daily  vow; 
Zealous  for  the  best 

His  earnest  spirit  can, 
And,  at  God's  behest, 

Swift  to  gladden  Man  I 

Honour  thou  the  Gift, 

Count  it  no  man's  slave; 
To  the  Lord  uplift 

What  His  bounty  gave ! 
Let  thy  spirit  spring 

Up  to  Heaven's  gate. 
There,  on  quivering  wing. 

Song  to  consecrate ! 

Song, — it  soothes  the  heart, 

Song,  it  charms  the  world; 
Song,  it  is  a  dart 

By  a  giant  hurl'd; 
Song, — a  torrent's  strength 

In  its  force  is  found 
When,  aroused  at  length. 

Nations  hear  the  sound! 

Hark !  they  hear,  and  feel. 

And  may  sleep  no  more ! 
Hark !  the  patriot  peal 

Rings  from  shore  to  shore; 
And,  in  danger's  hour. 

Stands  the  poet  then, 
Girt  about  with  power 

As  a  King  of  men ! 


THE    poet's    mission. 

At  his  burning  spell 

Quakes  the  solid  shore, 
And  with  yearning  swell 

Rises  ocean's  roar, 
Till  the  People's  will 

Like  a  storm  is  heard, 
Conjured  by  the  skill 

Of  their  poet's  word ! 

At  his  gentle  voice 

All  that  storm  is  calm, 
And  the  woods  rejoice, 

And  the  breeze  is  balm, 
And  Hosannas  rise 

From  a  Nation's  heart. 
Flaming  to  the  skies 

Through  the  Poet's  art  I 

Art?  it  is  his  breath. 

The  sighing  of  his  soul! 
Art?  it  might  be  Death 

The  fervour  to  control ! 
Not  by  such  a  name 

Call  the  glorious  birth 
Of  this  heavenly  flame 

Lit  to  kindle  earth ! 

As  his  heart  may  glow, 

Freely  must  his  song. 
Like  an  overflow, 

Gush  out  fresh  and  strong! 
No  constraint  be  there 

Ilis  energies  to  tire; 
Zeal,  and  love,  and  prayer 

String  the  Poet's  lyre! 


OOD    BLESS    THE    QUSSir. 


M  him  i^  (Jinrrn. 

( A  loyal  outburst,  occaaioned  by  the  cowardly  attack  upon  her  Majesty.  ) 
June  27,  1850. 

God  bless  the  Queen !  that  echo  darts 

Electric  through  the  land; 
God  save  the  Queen  !  a  million  hearts 

Are  with  its  fervour  fann'd  : 
And,  God  be  thanked!  He  saves  the  Queen, 

He  blesses  her  in  love; 
His  Providence  is  ever  seen 

To  guard  her  from  above  I 

0  dastard!  thus  to  strike  that  brow 

Anointed,  and  so  fair; 
O  brave  young  Queen!  that  bruise  is  now 

The  brightest  jewel  there! 
In  gentlest  majesty  sublime, 

Courageous  and  serene, — 
How  nobly  does  so  mean  a  crime 

Add  glories  to  the  Queen! 

Yes:  evil  men  and  evil  deeds 

Are  like  some  monster  chain'd, — 
That,  when  its  wickedness  succeeds, 

Works  only  good  constrain'd : 
0  Queen!  the  deed  a  traitor  dares 

Is  but  a  kindled  spark 
To  set  ablaze  thy  people's  prayers 

For  Thee,  the  nation's  Ark  I 


THE    MOON    AND    MOONSHINS.  i  i" 

9^  AN  ALLEGORT. 

Upon  a  slumbering  lake  at  night 

The  moon  looks  down  in  love, 
And  there,  in  chasten 'd  beauty  bright, 
A  sister  sphere  of  silver  light 

Seems  bathing  from  above. 

Anon,  an  evil  man  comes  near, 

And  a  rude  stone  he  flings, 
Half  in  hate  and  half  in  fear. 
To  crush  the  calm  accusing  sphere 

That  looks  such  lovely  things. 

He  flung,  and  struck;  and  in  gwift  race 

Round  ran  the  startled  waves; 
He  triumph'd  for  a  little  space; 
But  see!  how  soon  that  same  calm  face 

Again  her  beauty  laves. 

So,  friend,  if  envy  hits  thy  name, 

Be  still,  it  passes  soon; 
Thy  lamp  is  burning  all  the  same. 
And,  even  for  that  moonshine  Fame, 

It  must  reflect  its  Moon. 


fcrls  nr  rnrts!" 

A  LAUEXTATIOX. 

The  world  is  dying,  its  heart  is  cold. 
And  well  nigh  frozen  dead, — 

A  sorrowful  thing  it  is  to  grow  old, 
With  all  the  feelings  fled, — 


"NOBODY    PEELS    OR    0AR18." 

Dull  are  its  eyes,  and  dismal  its  voice, 
And  a  mourner's  cloak  it  wears, 

For  all  have  forgotten  to  love  or  rejoice,— 
Nobody  feels  or  cares ! 

Time  was,  when  zeal  and  honour  and  joy, 

And  charities  cheering  life, 
Mix'd  grains  of  gold  with  the  mass  of  alloy, 

And  starr'd  this  night  of  strife; 
But  now,  it  is  all  for  a  man's  own  self, 

And  not  how  his  neighbour  fares; 
Except  for  pleasure,  and  pride,  and  pelf. 

Nobody  feels  or  cares! 

Be  wise,  or  a  fool,  —  be  good  or  be  bad, 

To  others  it's  much  the  same; 
They  heed  not  a  whit  if  you're  merry  or  sad. 

Or  worthy  of  praise  or  blame: 
The  world  is  reaping  its  broadcast  seed 

Of  briers  and  thorns  and  tares, 
And  the  only  word  in  which  all  are  agreed 

Is  —  Nobody  feels  or  cares! 


AN     OLD    NORMAN    APPEAL    TO    THE    SOVEREIGN; 

which  saved  Cattle  Comet  from  demolition,  in  August  1850,  Guertuejf. 

Haro,  Hard  !  a  I'aide,  mon  Prince ! 

A  loyal  people  calls; 
Bring  out  Duke  Rollo's  Norman  lance 
To  stay  destruction's  fell  advance 

Against  the  Castle  walls;  — 


THE    "CLAM  EUR    DE    HARO." 

Haro,  Haro  I  a  Taide,  ma  Reine ! 
Thy  duteous  children  not  in  vain 
Plead  for  old  Cornet  yet  again 

To  spare  it,  ere  it  falls ! 
What!  shall  Earl  Rodolph's  sturdy  strength 
After  six  hundred  years  at  length 

Be  recklessly  laid  low  ? 
Hb  grey  machicolatcd  tower 
Tom  down  within  one  outraged  hour 
By  worse  than  Vandal's  ruthless  power? 

Haro !  a  I'aide,  Haro  ! 

Nine  years  old  Comet,  for  the  Throne, 
Against  rebellion  stood  alone, — 

And  honour'd  still  shall  stand 
For  heroism  so  sublime, 
A  relic  of  the  olden  time, 
Eenown'd  in  Guernsey  prose  and  rhyme, 

The  glory  of  her  land  1 
Ay, —  let  your  science  scheme  and  plan 

With  better  skill  than  so : 
Touch  not  this  dear  old  barbican, 

Nor  dare  to  lay  it  low  I 
On  Vazon's  ill-protected  bay 
Build  and  blow  up,  as  best  ye  may, 
And  do  your  worst  to  scare  away 

Some  visionary  foe, — 
But,  if  in  brute  and  blundering  power 
You  tear  down  llodolph's  granite  tower, 
Defeat,  and  scorn,  and  shame,  that  hour 
Shall  whelm  you  like  an  arrowy  shower, — 

Hai'ol  ^  I'aide,  Ilaro! 


MONT    ORQUEIL:    JERSEY. 


3Jlnnt  (Drgnril:  Srr3ti[. 

AN    HISTOEICAL   PICTURE. 

Mount  of  Honour,  Mount  of  Pride, 
Throned  above  the  stormy  tide, — 
Feudal  eyrie,  built  on  high. 
As  to  flout  the  common  sky, 
Weather-beaten,  ivied  pile. 
Glory  of  this  Norman  isle, —  * 

Thee  my  song  would  praise  to-day, 
Dreaming  of  ages  past  away  ! 

Woe !  for  those  old  evil  times. 

Foul  with  wrong,  and  full  of  crimes  j 

Woe !  for  those  drear  days  of  old. 

Dark  with  horrors  all  untold ! 

Through  the  mist  of  centuries  past, 

Dimly  cluster'd,  thick  and  fast. 

Shrouded  in  sepulchral  gloom. 

Shadowy  forms  of  terror  loom ! 

See !  the  Cromlech  on  this  height, 

Ked  with  the  Druid's  bloody  rite, — 

The  Beacon,  blazing  far  away. 

To  beckon  pirates  to  their  prey, — 

The  Cairn,  piled  high  above  the  wave 

Some  rude  Berserkir's  gory  grave, — 

The  rocky  Fort,  aloft  that  stood 

To  guard  some  Sea-king's  briny  brood, 

When  off  he  flew,  for  blood  to  roam. 

Leaving  his  vulture  flock  at  home, — 

All  these,  with  Shame,  and  Sin,  and  Fear, 

Dimly  vision' d,  cluster  here ! 

Then,  Rome's  vengeful  cohorts  came 
To  cleanse  the  nest  by  sword  and  flame; 


MONT    ORGUEIL:    JERSEY.  89 

With  foss  and  mound  secured  the  post, 
And  mann'd  it  with  her  iron  host: 
So  on,  so  on;  till  Rollo's  power 
Tore  down  amain  the  Roman's  tower, 
And  proudly  flung  against  the  sky 
Old  Gouray's  battlements  on  high  ! 
This  was  thine  hour  of  pride  and  fame ; 
When  gentle  knight,  and  high-born  dame, 
In  hall,  and  bower,  and  warder'd  gate 
Kept  their  high  chivalric  state  : 
Nor  soon  was  this  thy  glory  setj  — 
De  Barentin,  De  Carteret, 
Stand  forth !  and  tell  us  of  your  might 
Against  Du  Guesclin  in  the  fight; 
How  the  Great  Captain  lost  the  day, 
And  rash  Maulevrier  slunk  away, 
And  our  fifth  Henry's  favouring  smile 
Changed  Gouray  Fort  to  Mont  Orgueil, 
For  patriot  praise,  and  truth  well  tried, 
Mount  of  honour,  Mount  of  Pride ! 

So  on,  so  on  :  and  years  flew  by 
That  times  were  changed,  and  words  ran  high; 
And  fanatics  stood  charged  with  sin, 
And  foolish  zeal  imprison'd  Prynne :. 
Then  Charles,  in  retribution's  hour, 
Felt  here  a  despot  people's  power, 
Hiding  his  wanderer  head  awhile^ 
Ere  yet  he  left  the   loyal  isle. 
So,  years  flew  on ;  by  scores  they  past, 
And  kings  and  kingdoms  pcrish'd  fast; 
Till  a  fair  Queen,  in  happier  days 
Bless 'd  all  her  realm  with  peaceful  praise. 
And  gilt,  with  Her  benignant  smile, 
Her  royal  castle,  Mount  Orgueil ! 
4 


MONT  oroubil:  jersey. 

0,  God  be  thank'd,  for  quiet  hours, 
"When  nought  is  knowa  of  feudal  towers, 
But  the  fair  picture  that  they  fill, 
With  sea,  and  sky,  and  wooded  hill! 
O,  God  be  thank'd  for  times  like  these, 
Of  brother's  love,  and  grateful  ease, 
When  war  no  fiercer  sight  affords 
Than  ivied  forts,  and  rusty  swords! 


m 

A  RHTME  FOR  RAGGED  SCHOOLS. 

(  Widely  circulated.) 

Come  to  the  schools  that  your  friends  are  preparing, 

Poor  little  brothers,  come  over  to  us ! 
Just  as  you  stand  in  the  clothes  you  are  wearing. 

Though  they  be  ragged  and  scanty  as  thus; 
Come  from  the  alley,  the  lane,  and  the  passage. 

Come  in  your  rags, —  but  as  clean  as  you  can  ; 
We  have  a  mission  to  each,  and  a  message, 

Happy  and  true,  of  his  rights  as  a  Man. 

Don't  be  downhearted,  if  fools  for  an  hour 

Laugh  at  your  schooling  and  treat  it  with  scorn; 
Answer  them  truly,  that  "Knowledge  is  Power," 

And  that  a  blockhead  were  better  unborn; 
Laugh  as  they  may,  your  laugh  will  be  longest, 

Your's  is  for  ever,  their's  but  for  once; 
Soon  shall  they  own  you  both  wisest  and  strongest; 

Scholars  must  govern  the  fool  and  the  dunce! 


GOME    AS    YOU    JLRE. 

Tes,  my  boys,  come!  without  fear  or  suspicion, 

All  that  we  wish  is  your  gain  and  your  good 
Body  and  soul  to  improve  your  condition, 

And  we  would  better  it  more  if  we  could; 
But  where  we  cannot,  yourselves  may  be  able, 

Willingly  coming  to  hear  and  to  learn, 
How,  for  the  soul  to  be  happy  and  stable, 

And,  for  the  body,  your  living  to  earn! 

So  then  come  over,  young  scholars,  and  listen. 

Helping  yourselves,  as  in  honour  you  ought! 
We'll  tell  you  things  that'll  make  your  eyes  glisten, 

Brighten  the  spirit,  and  heighten  the  thought: 
Come  then,  and  welcome,  in  rags  and  in  tatters. 

Anyhow  come, —  but  as  clean  as  you  can; 
Gome  and  learn  gladly  these  glorious  matters, 

All  the  best  rights  in  the  duties  of  Man ! 


Mui  It.  ^ii^tl 

A  CONDOLEXCE  OS  THE   SPOT. 

Alas  !  for  thy  pollutions,  wondrous  pile. 
Rare  pyramid  of  Nature  and  high  Art, 
Desecrate,  and  befoul'd  in  every  part 

By  all  that  moderns  add  of  mean  and  vile: 
Woe,  for  thine  ancient  glories  gone  to  waste  I 

These  sculptured  cloisters,  and  that  lofty  aisle. 
This  arch'd  chivalric  hall  of  sumptuous  taste. 

Those  Norman  turrets,  (whose  unconquer'd  strength 
Enclose  the  steep  old  town  of  gables  strange)  — 

After  a  thousand  years,  all,  all  at  length 


MONI»ST.   MIOHEL. 

Given  up  to  filth  and  felons!  —  gaol-birds  range 
Where  erst  devoted  maids  and  holy  men 

Peal'd  their  full  anthem  :  —  0  the  bitter  change, 
Heaven's  gorgeous  house  become  corruption's  den ! 

Thou  sad  Eomance  in  stone  among  the  seas, — 
Monstrous  Chimsera,  saint  and  fiend  in  one, 
Where  the  Archangel,  soaring  to  the  sun. 

Feels  the  brute  serpent  coil'd  about  his  knees; 

O  pinnacles,  and  flying  buttresses 

Rear'd  on  a  festering  heap  of  foul  and  base; 

O  hallowed  Pharos,  rank  with  oily  lees; 

0  censer,  spoil'd  of  all  thy  fragrant  grace, — 
Alas !  how  fair,  how  fearful  is  this  place ! 

Round  it,  the  garden  of  Hesperides 

Once  bloom'd, —  with  that  "old  dragon"  for  a  guard 
The  stone  Kimmerian  windings  of  Camac; 

But  now,  the  light  that  since  blazed  heavenward 
Is  quench' d, —  and  all  again  is  utter  black ! 


It.  'MtlkfB  jDrrmitiigii,  Srrsq. 

A  VINDICATION. 

Anchorite,  whose  rugged  nest, 

Swept  by  wind  and  wash'd  by  wave, 
Perch'd  on  yonder  rocky  crest 

Was  thy  dwelling,  and  thy  grave, — 
Should  I  mock  thee,  holy  man? 

Should  I  not  revere  thy  name? 
Nor  do  honour,  if  I  can. 

To  St.  Helier's  martyr-fame? 


ST.  helier's  hermitage,  jerset. 

Come,  ye  scoffers,  and  behold! 

Here  is  the  luxurious  bed 
Where  your  pamper'd  monk  of  old 

Nightly  laid  his  aged  head : 
In  this  cave  he  wept,  and  prayd,— 

Till  the  Northman  pirate  came, 
And  achieved  with  bloody  blade 

Our  poor  hermit's  martyr-fame! 


True, —  in  venial  error  still 

His  devotion  stood  aloof 
From  the  world  and  all  its  ill, 

Under  this  low  vaulted  roof; 
Yet,  he  wrestled  in  his  cell 

For  high  heav'n  his  soul  to  frame,— 
0  ye  worldlings,  it  were  well 

Could  ye  win  such  martyr-fame  I 


It.  f  Dttrs;  nf  It  Mmn. 

AK   APPEAL,   WRITTEN'  ST  REQUEST. 

Beautiful  Isle !  where  the  Exile  of  Glory 

Sank  to  his  rest,  like  the  sun  in  the  sea,^ 
Fair  St.  Helena, —  his  fate  and  his  story 

Are  not  the  best  that  we  boast  of  in  thee; 
No!  nor  is  even  the  bloom  of  thy  beauty 

Finest  and  first  in  the  glen  or  the  height. 
But  —  where  thy  children  in  love  and  in  duty 

Earnestly  worship  The  Father  aright! 


ST.   PAULS,   OP    ST.    HELENA. 

Lo  now!  this  fruit  of  their  pious  devotion 

Grows,  like  a  cedar  on  Lebanon's  side; 
Slowly,  "  St.  Paul's,"  the  Church  of  the  Ocean, 

Bises  to  brighten  Atlantic's  dark  tide! 
Thither,  shall  soon  be  gladly  repairing 

Sons  of  the  stranger,  with  sons  of  the  soil, — 
Thither,  poor  Africa's  children,  preparing 

Thanks  for  their  freedom  from  tyrannous  toil. 

Soon?  but  how  soon?  —  Right  heartily  speed  it, 

Ye  that  fear  God,  and  are  loving  to  man  I 
Haste  with  your  aid, —  they  ask  it  and  need  it; 

Help  the  good  work  with  the  best  that  you  can: 
What  St.  Helena  is  nobly  beginning 

Stand  by  her,  England!  to  finish  it  all,. 
And,  by  the  souls  that  your  zeal  will  be  winning, 

Crown  with  its  top-stone  The  Church  of  St.  Paul  I 


Struck  down  at  noon  amid  the  startled  throng, 

An  eagle  shot  while  soaring  to  the  sun; 
A  wounded  gladiator  dying  strong 

As  loth  to  leave  the  glories  he  had  won; 

A  life-long  patriot,  with  his  work  half  done, — 
Of  thee,  great  Statesman,  shall  my  mourning  song 

Arise  in  due  solemnity !  —  of  thee. 
Whom  the  wide  world,  so  lately  and  so  long 

Thine  acolyte,  would  crowd  to  hear  and  see 
Their  intellectual  Athlete,  their  high  name 

For  eloquence  and  prudence,  gifts  and  powers: 
But  lo!  that  starry  mind,  a  heavenly  flame. 

Is  well  enfranchised  from  this  earth  of  ourSy 
Translated  in  the  zenith  of  its  fume ! 


WORDSWOETH.  45 


We  will  not  sorrow  for  the  glorious  dead, — 

Death  is  The  Life  to  glory's  hallow'd  sons  I 
Above  this  body,  in  its  prison-bed. 

Soar  the  free  spirits  of  those  blessed  ones, 
Waiting  in  hope,  on  heavenly  manna  fed : 
To  such  rich  feast  in  beauteous  raiment  led, 

Why  should  we  wail  for  him,  as  those  who  wept 
Some  Lycidas  or  Bion  of  old  time. 

Mourning  as  dead  the  soul  that  only  slept? 
No !  rather,  let  the  paean  rise  sublime 

For  nature's  poet-priest  from  nature's  voice,— 
Let  sea  and  sky  be  glad,  and  field,  and  fen, 
And  pastoral  vale,  and  thunder-riven  glen, 

And  dewy  Rydal  in  her  bard  rejoice  1 

For  there,  by  hill  or  dale,  in  sun  or  shade. 

He  "communed  with  the  universe"  in  love; 
"The  deep  foundations  of  his  mind"  were  laid. 

Sphered  in  their  midst,  on  all  around,  above : 
He  read  God's  heart,  in  all  His  hand  hath  made: 

Then,  in  the  majesty  of  simple  truth, 
To  man's  dim  mind  he  show'd  the  mind  of  God 

Lustrous  and  lovely,  "full  of  pity  and  ruth," 
For  high  and  low,  the  sunbeam  —  and  the  sod  I 

So  did  he  teach  in  ago,  as  erst  in  youth, — 
To  turn  away  from  passion's  lurid  light, 

And  yearn  on  purer  things  of  lowlier  birth, 
Pure  because  lowly, —  which,  in  God's  own  sight, 

As  in  his  servants',  are  the  pearls  of  earth. 


HI  OAMBBIDGE. 

Another  of  thy  chiefs,  0  Israel, 

Gone  to  a  good  man's  rest,  and  high  reward, 
As  full  of  years  as  honours;  it  is  well 

Thus  timely  to  be  called  to  meet  the  Lord  I 
0  death, — how  oft  Britannia  tolls  the  knell 

For  those  she  loves,  a  mother  for  her  sons  I 
Yet  is  it  seldom  that  her  tongue  can  tell 

More  truly  how  she  mourns  her  mighty  ones, 
Than  now  in  honest  sorrow  fills  her  breast; 
For  Ae  was  worthy;  full  of  kindliness, 
A  man  of  peace,  and  charity,  and  truth; 

For  ever  doing  good,  and  feeling  blest  ' 
(Though  nurtured  as  a  warrior  from  his  youth) 
«          In  finding  what  a  joy  it  is  to  bless  I 


'*I  AM  prepared  to  die;  for  I  have  tried 

To  do  my  Duty!" — Was  it  Nelson's  twin 
Who  spake  so  like  an  hero  when  he  died, 

A  Christian  hero,  with  forgiven  sin? 
Yes  !  —  it  is  one,  Columbia's  honest  pride 

(And  mother  England's  joy, —  we  claim  him  too,) 

Who  now  is  gone  far  other  spoils  to  win 
Than  late  of  Palo- Alto, —  higher  meed. 

Trophies  of  nobler  fame,  and  praise  more  true, 
Than  those  a  grateful  country  well  decreed 

To  her  Best  Son ;  her  best  and  bravest  son, 
Rough  for  the  fight,  but  Ready  heart  and  hand 

To  make  it  up  again  with  victory  won. 
In  war — and  peace — the  Glory  of  his  Land! 


BAJAH    BROOKE.  fT 


Enjnji  %tukh 

Noble  heart,  of  purpose  high, 

Hasten  on  thy  great  career, 
Heedless  of  the  coward  cry 

Slander  shouts  in  Envy's  ear; 
Even  now  the  falsehoods  die, 

Half  for  shame  and  half  for  fear, 
Even  now  the  clouds  go  by. 

And  thy  heaven  again  is  clear  I 

Let  them  whisper  what  they  can, 

Lightly  scofiF,  or  loudly  blame; 
Still,  0  glorious  friend  of  Man, 

Such  mean  censure  speeds  thy  fame: 
Good  men  bless,  where  bad  men  ban; 

Ever  was  it  seen  the  same. 
That  the  leader  of  the  van 

Won  his  way  through  foes  and  flame  f 

Rajah  !  throned  on  Indian  seas. 

Thou  art  there  to  bless  Mankind, 
Sent  to  sow  by  every  breeze 

Seeds  of  good  for  heart  and  mind; 
Carrying  out  God's  great  decrees 

To  the  Saxon  race  assign'd. 
Which  the  Right  all  stoutly  frees. 

But  is  stem  the  Wrong  to  bindl 


41^  afbioa's  self-blockade. 

lafrira's  |tlf-3olDrkck 

Sister,  we  are  not  slow  to  learn  of  thee 

How  best  to  compass  good;  how  best  to  pour 
Freedom  and  health,  as  on  Liberia's  shore. 

Along  the  skirt  of  Afric's  Western  sea; 
Sister  Columbia,  wiser  than  of  yore 

We  love  in  all  things  generous  to  agree ! 

And,  well  content  if  blessing  so  may  be 

To  the  poor  darkling  slave,  a  slave  no  more. 
Frankly  we  haste  to  fringe  the  sea-board  thus 

With  homes  and  fields  of  freemen  :  glad  to  win 
Around  the  standards  reared  by  thee  and  ns, 

Body  and  soul,  the  rescued  sons  of  sin 
From  both  worlds'  doom  of  wretchedest  and  \iorst, 
Through  us  no  more  benighted  nor  accurst  1 


tm  Ijiirits. 

It  is  not  Time, —  I  joy  to  see 

My  children  growing  up; 
It  is  not  Sin, —  remorse  for  me     • 

Holds  out  no  bitter  cup; 
Nor  doth  Mammon's  dreary  din 

Add  its  gloom  to  Time  or  Sin. 

It  is  not  that  the  Past  was  sweet,— 

Many  griefs  were  there  ! 
It  is  not  that  the  Future's  feet 

Are  shrouded  up  in  care; 
Providence  is  wise  and  kind. 
And  I  am  strong  for  heart  and  mind. 


LOW    SPIRITS.  49 

Why  then  be  sad?  why  thus,  my  hear^ 

Disquieted  within? 
Great  is  the  mercy  that  thou  art 

Unseared  by  care  and  sin; 
That  Time  to  Thee  has  small  alloy, 
And  memory's  thoughts  are  thoughts  of  joy. 

Why  then  so  sad? — My  friends  of  old 

Are  dead  and  gone,  or  changed; 
My  childhood's  nest  of  home  is  cold, 

And  each  old  haunt  estranged; 
So  that  I  walk  a  stranger  there. 
With  none  to  feel  for  how  I  fare  I 

True, — many  newfound  friends  may  throng, 

And  make  a  passing  show; 
But  always  as  they  stream  along 

Like  dreams  they  come  and  go, — 
And, — however  kind  they  be. 
They  bring  not  back  the  Past  to  me ! 


KIW  WORDS  TO  TBI   FIXE  TUNE,    "  MYNHEEB  TAN  DIJNr." 

Mine  own  stout  heart! 
You  and  I  must  never  part, 
But  bravely  get  on  together, — 
Through  calm  and  strife, 
And  the  ups  and  downs  of  life, 
In  winter,  or  summer  weather! 
Singing,  0 !  for  a  true  bold  heart  shall  be 
Ever  found  in  its  warm  old  place  with  me, 
Cheerful  evermore,  and  frank,  and  free. 
Though  the  Mountains  be  drown'd  in  the  rolling  Sea  I 


POETITUDE. 

Troubles,  well  season'd,  as  being  well  sent, 

No  honest  man  dreams  of  scorning  j 
But  be  mixes  them  up  in  his  cup  of  content, 
And  fears  no  foes 
While  be  happily  knows 
That  Night  must  end  in  Morning! 
For  a  brave  glad  heart  shall  always  be 
Beating  in  its  own  warm  nest  with  me, 
Cheerful  evermore,  and  frank,  aud  free, 
Though  the  Mountains  be  drown'd  in  the  rolling  Seal 


*'  Mm  niurji  mnrsr  it  niigljt  Imire  km  I '' 

A  TEXT  FOR  THK  DISCOKTENTXD. 

Honest  fellow,  sore  beset, 

Vext  by  troubles  quick  and  keen, 
Thankfully  consider  yet 

"How  much  worse  it  might  have  been!" 
Worthily  thy  faults  deserve 

More  than  all  thine  eyes  have  seen, 
Think  thou  then  with  sterner  nerve, 

"How  much  worse  it  might  have  been!" 

Though  the  night  be  dark  and  long, 

Morning  soon  shall  break  serene, 
And  the  burden  of  thy  song 

"How  much  worse  it  might  have  been!" 
God,  the  Good  One,  calls  to  us 

On  His  Providence  to  lean, 
Shout  then  out  devoutly  thus, 

**How  much  worse  it  might  have  been!" 


A  NIGHT-SAIL  IN  THE  EACE  OF  ALDERNET.  51 

<a  Sig^t-Sflil  IE  tIjB  %m  of  iaihmif. 

Sept.  6,  1850. 

Sprinkled  thick  with  shining  studs, 

Stretches  wide  the  tent  of  heaven, 

Blue,  begemm'd  with  golden  buds, — 

Calm,  and  bright,  and  deep,  and  clear 
Glory's  hollow  hemisphere 
Arch'd  above  these  frothing  floods, 

Right  and  left  asunder  riven. 
As  our  cutter  madly  scuds. 
By  the  fitful  breezes  driven. 
When  exultingly  she  sweeps 
Like  a  dolphin  through  the  deeps, 
And  from  wave  to  wave  she  leaps, 
Rolling  in  this  yeasty  leaven, — 

Ragingly  that  never  sleeps. 
Like  the  wicked  unforgiveni 

Midnight,  soft  and  fair  above. 

Midnight,  fierce  and  dark  beneath,— 
All  on  high  the  smile  of  love, 

All  below  the  frown  of  death : 
Waves  that  whirl  in  angry  spite 
With  a  phosphorescent  light 
Gleaming  ghastly  on  the  night,— 

Like  the  pallid  sneer  of  Doom, 
So  malicious,  cold,  and  white. 

Luring  to  this  watery  tomb, 
Where  in  fury  and  in  fright 
Winds  and  waves  together  fight 


A  NIGHT-SAIL  IN  THE  RACE  07  ALDEBNET. 

Hideously  amid  the  gloom, — 
As  our  cutter  gladly  scuds, 

Dipping  deep  her  sheeted  boom 
Madly  to  the  boiling  sea, 
Lighted  in  these  furious  floods 
By  that  blaze  of  brilliant  studs, 
Glistening  down  like  glory-buds 
On  the  Race  of  Alderney! 


When  the  star  of  good  fortune  is  rising, 

And  seems  to  the  zenith  to  soar. 
How  tenderly  friends  will  be  prizing 
The  beauties  forgotten  before; 
O !  Genius  will  look  very  bright 
In  the  blaze  of  Prosperity's  light! 

But  let  the  dimm'd  planet  be  setting 

Below  the  horizon  in  cloud. 
Right  soon  will  your  friends  be  forgetting 
The  gifts  they  so  frankly  allowed; 
Ah !  Genius  will  show  very  slight 
In  the  gloom  of  Adversity's  night! 

Yet  none  the  less  glorious  and  holy 

Is  shining  that  sun  of  the  soul, 
Let  Fortune  be  lofty  or  lowly. 
And  Friendship  rejoice  or  condole; 
For  Genius  can  cldm  as  his  right 
True  homage  by  day  and  by  night! 


THE    MANCHESTER    ATHENiEXTM. 


€JIB  3'fiaiirljrBtrr  ^ItjirniEttiu. 

(  Stanzas,  soUcited,  in  aid  of  its  Liabilities,  Oct.  1850. ) 

A  TEMPLE  of  generous  health, 

To  gladden  the  spirit  of  youth; 
A  mine  of  intelligent  wealth, 

A  treasury  teeming  with  truth,— 
Come,  help  in  so  happy  a  work. 

Such  pleasure  and  gain  to  secure, 
Gain,  where  little  evil  can  lurk, 

And  pleasure  can  only  be  pure! 

How  wise  it  must  be  and  how  blest, 

After  the  toils  of  the  day, 
That  body  and  mind  be  at  rest, 

Whiling  their  sorrows  away; 
Consider  how  grateful  a  thing 

Such  rational  solace  to  find. 
And  Ignorance  gladly  to  bring 

To  feast  upon  food  for  the  Mind! 

Kemembcr,  how  wise  for  the  young 

So  purely  their  evenings  to  spend 
The  poets  and  sages  among, 

With  every  good  book  for  a  friend  I 
Remember,  how  well  for  the  old 

To  rub  the  dull  heart  from  its  rust, 
That  earthly  pollutions  and  gold 

Drag  it  not  down  to  the  dust! 

Then  freely  and  frankly  make  haste 
To  help,  where  your  help  is  so  worth; 

And  lot  not  this  temple  of  taste. 
So  full  of  the  treasures  of  earth. 


•  P- 


H  THE    MANCHESTER    ATHENAEUM. 

Through  negligence  go  to  decay; 
But  rather  in  truth  and  in  deed, 
.  .  May  Manchester  glory  to-day, 

flf*  That  Britain  has  bid  her  God-speed  I 


€liB  IliiigstDii  Cnrnnntinn  Itnnp. 

(A  Stave,  tolicited  at  its  Inauguration,  Oct.  1850.) 

« 

Rejoice!  that  Bi-aise  and  Honour  at  length 

Return  to  their  ancient  rest, — 
As  a  wounded  eagle  gathers  his  strength 

To  recover  his  rock-built  nest; 
For  of  old,  around  yon  rugged  throne 

Tradition  tenderly  clings, 
To  hail  that  stone,  as  its  brother  of  Scone, 

The  Throne  of  the  Seven  Kings! 

Edward  the  Elder  there  was  crown'd. 

Great  Alfred's  glorious  son, — 
And  Atiielstan,  thro'  the  wide  world  renown'd 

For  merchant-trophies  won, — 
Edmund  and  Ethelred,  in  high  state, 

With  Eldred,  and  Edwy  tue  Fair, 
And  Edward,  due  to  a  Martyr's  fate, 

Were  throned  in  honour  there ! 

Thou  then,  such  ancestry's  Royal  seed, 

Britannia's  Heiress-Queen ! 
In  grace  consider  the  loyal  deed 

Thy  Saxon  children  mean; 
To  the  time-hallowed  Past  its  homage  due 

The  Present  wisely  brings, 
And  thus  would  we  pour  our  chrisra  anew 

On  the  Throne  of  the  Seven  Kings! 


ASTAVEOFSYMPATHY.  6S 


%  §km  of  Ipptjuj. 


^Offered,  in  lieu  of  a  tolicited  Lecture,  to  the  Young  Merit  Chrittiaa  AuO' 
eiation,  Nov.  1850.) 

My  blessing,  young  brother!  an  honest  God-speed, 

A  Christian  and  true  British  cheer! 
The  best  and  wisest  among  us*  have  need 

Of  hearty  encouragement  here : 
And  wholesome  it  is  to  be  hail'd,  as  we  go 

Along  the  dark  rapids  of  life, 
By  those  who  are  weath'ring  the  perils,  and  know 

The  way  to  be  steer'd  in  the  strife! 

By  diligence,  brother,  and  quiet  content; 

By  purity,  growing  from  prayer; 
By  looking  on  all  things  as  order'd  and  sent 

From  God,  in  His  fatherly  care; 
By  thrusting  the  cup  of  temptation  aside, 

And  tasting  it  —  no !  not  a  sip ! 
By  cleansing  the  head  from  the  cobwebs  of  pride, 

And  banishing  scorn  from  the  lip. 

By  reading,  and  working,  and  doing  your  best 

In  all  that  is  duty  to  do; 
By  frankness,  and  fairness,  and  kindness  exprest 

To  all  that  have  dealings  with  you; 
By  cheerfulness,  hopefulness,  gratitude,  truth; 

By  shunning  the  thing  that  is  mean; 
By  looking  to  God  as  the  guide  of  your  youth, 

And  loving  your  country  and  Queen  I 
5 


A    STAVE    OF    S  Y  M  r  A  T  n  Y. 

Steer  thus,  0  young  brother!  and  you  will  indeed 

Ride  safe,  though  the  surges  be  vext; 
In  this  world  I  warrant  you  well  to  succeed, 

And  better  than  well  in  the  next: 
Go  on,  and  be  prosper'd !     "  Enough,  and  to  spare,' 

To  giKiliness  ever  is  given; 
By  pureness  and  diligence,  patience  and  prayer, 

You  conquer  for  Earth  and  for  Heaven ! 


toDiirngrinriit. 

A  COMPANION  BALLAD  TO  THE  "  STAVE  OF  SYMPATHY." 

Yet  one  more  cheer,  one  brotherly  cheer. 
To  speed  the  good  youth  on  his  way ! 
There's  plenty  to  hope,  and  little  to  fear 
For  those  who  have  chosen  the  good  part  here, 
While  it  is  called  to-day. 

4 

Ah !  well  do  I  wot  the  perils  and  snares 

Of  this  bad  world  and  its  lust; 
Temptations  and  sorrows,  vexations  and  cares. 
Grow  with  the  heart's  young  wheat  like  tares. 

And  worry  it  down  to  the  dust! 

Yet,  better  I  know,  if  the  spirit  will  pray, 

When  trouble  is  near  at  hand, — 
If  the  heart  pleads  hard  for  grace  to  obey. 
Brother!  no  sin  shall  lure  thee  astray, — 
By  faith  thou  still  ghalt  stand! 


B  N  C  O  U  R  A  O  K  M  E  N  T  .  67 

For  Heaven  bends  over  to  help  and  to  bless 

With  all  a  Redeemer's  power 
The  spirit  that  strives,  when  evils  oppress, 
Its  God  to  serve,  and  its  Lord  to  confess 

In  dark  temptation's  hour. 

Thou,  then,  fair  brother,  go  cheerily  forth, 

And  manfully  do  your  best! 
In  all  sincerity's  warmth  and  worth 
Go  forth, —  be  pure,  be  happy  on  earth, 

And  60  evermore  be  blest! 


a  3Jli55iDEan{  SSnllnlr. 


Oivm,  iiutead  of  a  soUciled  Lecture,  to  the  Church  of  England  Young  Merit 
Society,  for  aiding  Missions  at  home  and  abroad. 

A  CALL  to  do  good  from  the  east  to  the  west! 
A  call  to  bless  others,  and  so  to  be  blest ! 
A  call  from  the  Saviour,  beside  Him  to  stand 
And  work  for  His  glory,  with  heart  and  with  hand! 

Nurtured  in  knowledge,  and  favour'd  and  spared, 
The  best  of  earth's  banquet  for  us  is  prepared; 
Then  well  should  we  hasten,  at  home  and  abroad, 
To  care  for  the  poor  in  the  name  of  the  Lord ! 

For,  always  about  us  the  poor  shall  be  found, 
Poor  for  both  worlds,  ever  crowding  around; 
And  always  the  battle  of  truth  must  be  fought 
la  gin  to  be  conquer' d,  and  good  to  be  taught! 


A     MISSIONARY     U  A  L  I-  A  D . 

Heathens  abroad,  and  heathens  at  home;  — 
Not  far  is  the  need  for  your  missions  to  roam; 
Our  highways  and  byeways,  the  streets  and  the  lanes, 
Claim  the  first  care,  and  will  yield  the  first  gains : 

Then, —  (for  the  soldiers  of  Heaven's  true  host 
Are  marshall'd  for  conquest  on  every  coast,)  — 
Britain's  dear  sons  on  each  far-distant  land 
Ask  the  next  blessing  and  help  at  your  hand: 

Then, — let  the  banner  of  grace  be  unfurl'd 
Free  as  the  winds,  and  wide  as  the  world;  — 
And  chiefly,  help  Zion,  poor  outcast  of  sin. 
The  mercies  of  God  through  your  mercy  to  win ! 

Sure  is  your  work  of  a  blessed  reward, — 

Ye  serve  a  good  Master  in  serving  the  Lord; 

Even  were  others  unblest  by  your  zeal. 

It  is  well, — ye  are  water'd  yourselves  for  your  weal! 

But, — it  is  better!  yet  more  shall  ye  earn, — 
Many  to  righteousness  Now  shall  ye  turn. 
And  like  the  stars  Hereafter  shall  shine 
For  ever  and  ever  in  glory  divine ! 


€^t  tmnl  Crninn. 


The  laurel  crown  !  for  duty  done, 
For  good  achieved,  and  honours  won, 
For  all  of  natural  gift,  or  art. 
That  thrills  and  fills  an  earnest  heart 


THE    LAUftEL    CROWN. 

With  generous  thoughts  and  stirring  words 
Struck  from  its  ovm  electric  chords, — 
On  these  your  modem  muses  frown, 
Yet  these  deserve  the  laurel  crown! 


The  laurel  crown !  for  soaring  song 
Eagle-pinion 'd,  free,  and  strong. 
That,  as  God  gives  grace  and  power, 
Consecrates  each  hallow'd  hour 
Wisely,  as  a  patriot  ought. 
By  burning  word  and  glowing  thought, — 
On  this  pour  all  your  honours  down. 
To  this  belongs  the  laurel  crown ! 

The  laurel  crown !  in  common  eyes 

A  wreath  of  leaves,  a  paltry  prize, 

A  silly,  worthless,  weed-like  thing. 

Fit  coronet  for  folly's  king: 

The  laurel  crown !  in  wisdom's  ken 

A  call  from  God  to  waken  men, 

Lest  in  these  mammon  depths  they  drown,- 

This  is  thy  glory,  laurel  crown! 

Yes,  laurel  crown !  if  seen  aright, 
A  majesty  of  moral  might 
To  lead  the  masses  on  to  good. 
And  rule  the  surging  multitude 
By  nobler  and  more  manly  songs 
Than  to  some  troubadour  belongs. 
Who  feebly  warbles  for  renown,-^ 
Not  such  be  thou   my  laurel  crown  1 


HOMK. 


▲   BiiLLAD   FOR  EVERVBODT. 

I  FORAGED  all  over  this  joy-dotted  earth, 

To  pick  its  best  nosegay  of  innocent  mirth 

Tied  up  with  the  bands  of  its  wisdom  and  worth, — 

And  lo !  its  chief  treasure, 

Its  innermost  pleasure, 

"Was  always  at  Home ! 

I  went  to  the  Palace,  and  there  my  fair  Queen 
On  the  arm  of  Her  Husband  did  lovingly  lean, 
And  all  the  dear  babes  in  their  beauty  were  seen, 

In  spite  of  the  splendour. 

So  happy  and  tender, 

For  they  were  at  Home ! 

I  tum'd  to  the  cottage,  and  there  my  poor  hind 

Lay  sick  of  a  fever, — all  meekly  resign'd. 

For  0  !  the  good  wife  was  so  cheerful  and  kind, 

In  spite  of  all  matters, 

An  angel  in  tatters, 

And  she  was  at  Home ! 

I  ask'd  a  glad  mother,  just  coTne  from  the  post 
With  a  letter  she  kiss'd  from  a  far-away  coast, 
What  heart-thrilling  news  had  rejoiced  her  the  moat — 

And  —  gladness  for  mourning! 

Iler  boy  was  returnitig 

To  love  her  —  at  Home! 

I  spoke  to  the  soldiers  and  sailors  at  sea. 

Where  best  in  the  world  would  they  all  of  them  be? 

And  hark !  how  thoy  earnestly  shouted  to  me. 


HOME.  H 

With  iron  hearts  throbbing, 
And  choking  and  sobbing, 
—  0  land  us  at  Home ! 

I  came  to  the  desk  where  old  Commerce  grew  grey, 
And  ask'd  him  what  help'd  him  this  many  a  day 
In  his  old  smoky  room  with  his  ledger  to  stay? 

And  it  all  was  the  beauty, 

The  comfort  and  duty, 

That  cheer'd  him  at  Home  ! 

I  ran  to  the  court,  where  the  sages  of  law 

"Were  wrangling  and  jangling  at  quibble  and  flaw,— 

0  wondrous  to  me  was  the  strife  that  I  saw ! 

But  all  that  fierce  riot 
Was  calm'd  by  the  quiet 

That  blest  them  at  Home  ! 

1  call'd  on  the  school-boy,  poor  lova-stricken  lad, 
Who  yearn'd  in  his  loneliness,  silent  and  sad. 

For  the  days  when  again  he  should  laugh  and  be  glad 
With  his  father  and  mother, 
And  sister  and  brother. 
All  happy  at  Home ! 

I  tapp'd  at  the  door  of  the  year-stricken  Eld, 

Where  ago,  as  I  thought,  had  old  memories  quell'd, — 

But  still  all  his  garrulous  fancies  outwell'd 

Strange  old-fashion 'd  stories  ^ 

Of  pleasures  and  glories 

That  once  were  at  Home ! 

I  whisper'd  the  prodigal,  wanton  and  wild, 

—  How  changed  from  the  heart  that  you  had  when  a  child, 

So  teachable,  noblo,  and  mfMlest,  and  mild!  — 


HOME. 

Though  Sin  had  undone  him, 
Thank  God  that  I  won  him 
By  looking  at  Home  I 

And  then,  when  he  wept  and  vowed  hetter  life^ 
I  hastened  to  snatch  him  from  peril  and  strife, 
By  finding  him  wisely  a  tender  young  Wife, — 

Whose  love  should  allure  him. 

And  gently  secure  him 
A  convert  at  Home! 

So  he  that  had  raced  after  pleasure  so  fast, 
And  still  as  he  ran  had  its  goal  overpast, 
Found  happiness,  honour,  and  blessing  at  last 

In  all  the  kind  dealings, 

Affections  and  feeling?. 
That  ripen  at  Homol 


Hirli  cnir  f  nnr. 

A   BALLAD    FOR   UNION. 

0  LADIES,  lords,  and  gentlemen, 
Attend  to  what  I  say. 

For  well  I  wot  you'll  like  it  when 

You  listen  to  my  lay; 
And  labourers  and  weavers  too, 

Come  near,  whoever  can, 

1  want  the  best  of  all  of  you. 
To  build  a  Noble  Man. 


RICHANDPOOR.  6b 

The  time  is  past  for  lofty  looks, 

As  well  as  vulgar  deeds; 
Religion,  common-sense,  and  books, 

0  these  are  magic  seeds ! 
They  kill  whate'er  in  man  was  proud, 

And  nourish  what  is  wise, 
And  feed  the  humblest  of  the  crowd 

With  manna  from  the  skies. 

Ay,  dreary  days  of  highbred  scorn. 

You've  some  while  died  away,— 
And  better  were  the  fool  unborn. 

Who  tries  it  on  to-day : 
Ay,  wintry  nights  of  lowbred  sin, 

You've  stolen  out  of  sight. 
And  all  things  base,  without,  within, 

Are  scatter'd  by  the  light. 

Take  copy  of  the  small,  ye  great  I 

In  all  that's  free  .and  frank; 
Add  cordial  ways  to  courteous  state, 

And  heartiness  to  rank : 
Take  copy  of  the  great,  ye  small, 

In  all  that's  soft  and  fair. 
Honourable  to  each  and  all. 

And  gentle  everywhere ! 

The  Gracious  Source  of  all  our  wealth 

In  body,  mind,  or  store, 
Pours  life  and  light  and  hope  and  health 

Alike  on  rich  and  poor; 
And  though  so  many  covet  ill 

Some  neighbour's  happier  state, 
They  little  heed  how  kind  a  Will 

Has  fixed  them  in  their  fate. 


RICH    AND    I'OOR. 

Think,  jastlj  think,  what  liberal  aids 

Invention  gives  to  all, 
While  Truth  shines  out,  and  Error  fades, 

Alike  for  great  and  small; 
How  well  the  rail,  the  post,  the  proas, 

Help  universal  Man, 
The  highest  peer,  and  hardly  less 

The  humblest  artizan. 

Religion,  like  an  angel,  stands 

To  solace  every  mind ; 
And  Science,  with  her  hundred  hands. 

Is  blessing  all  mankind; 
All  eyes  may  sec  a  beauteous  sight, 

All  ears  may  hoar  sweet  sound. 
And  sage-desired  seeds  of  light 

Are  broadcast  all  around. 

Lo,  the  high  places  levelling  down  1 

The  valleys  filling  up ! 
Magnates,  who  ought  to  wear  a  crown. 

Drain  Charity's  cold  cup ; 
While  Industry,  of  humblest  birth, 

With  Prudence  well  allied, 
O'ertops  the  t^ipmost  peaks  of  earth, 

The  palaces  of  pride. 

Be  humble  then,  ye  mighty  men ! 

Be  humble,  |M)or  of  earth  ! 
Be  God  alone  exalted,  when 

He  speaks  by  plague  and  dearth ! 
Let  each  be  grateful,  friendly,  true. — 

And  that  will  be  the  plan. 
To  make   Df  peer,  and  peasant  too, 

A  truly  Noble  Man  I 


THE    SABBATH. 


(£jjr  Inhhntji. 

A    BALLAD    FOR    THE    LABOURER. 

Six  diiys  in  a  week  do  I  toil  for  my  bread, 

And  surely  should  feel  like  a  slave, 
Except  for  a  providence  fix'd  overhead 

That  hallowed  the  duties  it  gave; 
I  work  for  my  mother,  my  babes,  and  my  wife, 

And  starving  and  stern  is  ray  toil, — 
For  who  can  tell  truly  how  hard  is  the  life 

Of  a  labouring  son  of  the  soil  ? 

A  debt  to  the  doctor,  a  score  at  the  shop, 

And  plenty  of  trouble  and  strife, — 
While  backbreaking  toil  makes  me  ready  to  drop, 

Worn  out  and  aweary  of  life ! 
0,  were  there  no  gaps  in  the  month  or  the  year, 

No  comfort,  or  peace,  or  repose. 
How  long  should  I  battle  with  miseries  here, 

How  soon  bft  woighel  <\ryn  by  my  w>03? 

Six  days  in  the  week,  then,  I  struggle  and  strive, 

And  0!  but  the  seventh  is  blest; 
Then  only  I  seem  to  be  free  and  alive, 

My  soul  and  niy  body  at  rest : 
I  needn't  get  up  in  the  cold  and  the  dark, 

I  need  n't  go  work  in  the  rain, 
On  that  happy  morning  I  wait  till  the  lark 

Has  trill'd  to  the  sunshine  again ! 

Unhurried  for  once,  well  shaven  and  clean. 
With  babes  and  the  mother  at  meals, 

I  gather  what  home  and  its  happiness  mean. 
And  feel  as  a  gentleman  feels ; 


THE     S  A  BBATH. 

Then  drest  in  my  best  I  go  blithely  to  church, 

And  meet  my  old  mates  on  the  way, 
To  gossip  awhile  in  the  ivy'd  old  porch, 

And  hear  all  the  news  of  the  day. 

And  soon  as  the  chimes  of  the  merry  bells  cease, 

—  0  rare  is  the  bell-ringers'  din !  — 
We  calmly  compose  us  to  prayer  and  to  peace, 

As  Jabez  is  tolling  us  in : 
And  then  in  the  place  where  my  fathers  have  pray'd, 

I  praise  and  I  pray  at  my  best, 
And  smile  as  their  child  when  I  hope  to  be  laid 

In  the  same  bit  of  turf  where  they  rest ! 

For  wisely  his  Reverence  tells  of  the  dead 

As  living,  and  waiting  indeed 
A  bright  Resurrection, —  'twas  happily  said, — 

From  earth  and  its  misery  freed ! 
And  then  do  I  know  that  though  poor  I  am  rich, 

An  heir  of  great  glories  above. 
Till  it  seems  like  a  throne, —  my  old  seat  in  the  niche 

Of  the  wall  of  the  church  that  I  love ! 

So,  praise  the  Good  Lord  for  his  sabbaths,  I  say. 

So  kindly  reserved  for  the  poor; 
The  wealthy  can  rest  and  be  taught  any  day. 

But  we  have  but  one  and  no  more ! 
Ay, — what  were  the  labouring  man  without  these 

His  sabbaths  of  body  and  mind? 
A  workweary  wretch  without  respite  or  ease. 

The  curse  and  reproach  of  his  kind ! 

And  don't  you  be  telling  me,  sages  of  trade, 

The  seventh's  a  loss  in  my  gain; 
I  pretty  well  guess  of  what  stuff  you  are  made, 

And  know  what  you  mean  in  the  main: 


THE    SABBATH. 

You  mete  out  the  work,  and  the  wages  you  fix, 

And  care  for  the  make,  not  the  men; 
For  seven  you'd  pay  us  the  same  as  for  six. 

And  who  would  be  day-winners  then? 

No,  no,  my  shi-ewd  masters,  thank  God  that  His  law- 

The  Sabbath  —  is  law  of  the  land; 
Thank  God  that  his  wisdom  so  truly  foresaw 

What  mercy  so  lovingly  plann'd : 
My  babes  go  to  school;  and  my  Bible  is  read; 

And  I  walk  in  my  holiday  dress; 
And  I  get  better  fed;  and  my  bones  lie  abed, — 

And  my  wages  are  nothing  the  less. 

Then  Praises  to  God, —  and  all  health  to  the  Queen,- 

And  thanks  for  the  Sabbath,  say  I ! 
It  is  as  it  shall  be,  and  ever  has  been. 

The  earthgrubber's  glimpse  at  the  sky; 
The  Sabbath  is  ours,  my  mates  of  the  field, — 

A  holiday  once  in  the  seven; 
The  Sabbath  to  Mammon  we  never  will  yield, 

It  is  Poverty's  foretaste  of  Heaven  I 


A    BALLAD   OF   COUPOSCIUE. 

Shining  in  its  silver  cell. 

Like  a  Hermit  calm  and  quiet,— 
Though  80  near  it,  hot  as  hell, 

Furious  fires  rave  and  riot, — 


^       "THE   LAMP   Ul'O.N     THE   tt  A  IK  W  A  Y    ENGINE. 

Posted  as  an  eye  in  frout, 

'Mid  the  smoke  und  steam  and  singeing, 
Steadily  bears  all  the  brunt, 

The  Lamp  upon  the  railw^ay  engine. 

So,  thou  traveller  of  life, 

In  the  battle  round  tiiee  crashing 
Heed  no  more  the  stormy  strife 

Than  u  rock  the  billows  dashing: 
Through  this  dark  and  dreary  night, 

Vexing  fears,  and  cares  unhingeing. 
Shine,  0  Mind,  aloft,  alight, 

The  Lamp  upon  the  railway  engine. 

By  the  oil  of  Grace  well  fed. 

Ever  on  the  Future  gazing. 
Let  the  star  within  thy  head 

Steadily  and  calmly  blazing 
Hold  upon  its  duteous  way 

Through  each  ordeal  unflinching, 
Trimm'd  to  burn  till  dawn  of  Day, 

The  Lamp  upon  the  railway  engine. 

Safe  behind  a  crystal  shield. 

Though  the  outer  deluge  drench  us, 
Fsutb  forbids  a  soul  to  yield. 

And  no  hurricane  can  quench  us : 
No !  though  forced  along  by  fate 

At  a  pace  so  swift  <uid  swingeing, 
Calmly  shine  in  silver  state. 

Ye  Lamps  oa  every  railway  engine. 


L  A  B  O  U  U  .  60 


Inlinnr! 

A   BALLAD    TC  R   OUR    MIXES    AN'D    MANUFACTOKIES. 

Fair  work  for  fair  wages!  —  it's  all  that  we  ask, 

An  Englishman  loves  what  is  fair, — 
We  '11  never  complain  of  the  toil  or  the  task, 

If  livelihood  comes  with  the  care ; 
Fair  work  fur  fair  wages!  —  we  hope  nothing  else 

Of  the  uiill,  or  the  forge,  or  the  soil, 
For  the  rich  man  who  buys,  and  the  poor  man  who  sells, 

Must  pay  and  be  paid  for  his  toil ! 

Fair  work  for  fair  wages!  —  we  know  that  the  claim 

Is  just  between  master  and  man; 
If  the  tables  were  turn'J,  we  would  serve  him  the  same. 

And  promise  we  will  when  we  can ! 
We  give  to  him  industry,  muscle,  and  thew. 

And  heartily  work  for  his  wealth ; 
So  he  will  as  honestly  give  what  is  due. 

Fair  wages  for  labour  in  health ! 

Enough  for  the  day,  and  a  bit  to  put  by 

Against  illness,  and  slackness,  and  age; 
For  change  and  misfortune  are  ever  too  nigh 

Alike  to  the  fool  and  the  sage ; 
But  the  fool  in  his  harvest  will  wanton  and  waste, 

Forgetting  the  winter  once  more, 
While  true  British  wisdom  will  timely  make  haste 

And  save  for  the  "  basket  and  store !" 

Ay ;   wantonness  freezes  to  want,  be  assured,    ,-. 

And  drinking  makes  nothing  to  eat, 
And  penury's  wasting  by  waste  is  secured, 

And  luxury  starves  in  the  street! 


>  LABOUR. 

And  many  a  father  with  little  ones  pale, 
So  rack'd  by  his  cares  and  his  pains, 

Might  now  be  all  right  if,  when  hearty  and  hale, 
He  never  had  squander'd  his  gains! 

We  know  that  prosperity's  glittering  sun 

Can  shine  but  a  little,  and  then. 
The  harvest  is  over,  the  summer  is  done. 

Alike  for  the  master  and  men : 
If  the  factory  ship  with  its  Captain  on  board 

Must  beat  in  adversity's  waves. 
One  lot  is  for  all !  for  the  great  cotton  lord 

And  the  poorest  of  Commerce's  slaves; 

One  lot!  if  extravagance  reign'd  in  the  home. 

Then  poverty's  wormwood  and  gall; 
If  rational  foresight  of  evils  to  come, 

A  cheerful  complacence  in  all; 
For  sweet  is  the  morsel  that  diligence  eam'd. 

And  sweeter,  that  prudence  put  by; 
And  lessons  of  peace  in  affliction  are  learn' d, 

And  wisdom  that  comes  from  on  high ! 

For  God,  in  His  providence  ruling  above, 

And  piloting  all  things  below, 
[s  ever  unchangeable  justice  and  love. 

In  ordering  welfare  or  woe  : 
He  blesses  the  prudent  for  heaven  and  earth, 

And  gladdens  the  good  at  all  times, — 
But  frowns  on  the  sinner,  and  darkens  his  mirth, 

And  lashes  his  follies  and  crimes ! 

Alas !  for  the  babes,  and  the  poor  pallid  wife 
Hurl'd  down  with  the  sot  to  despair, — 

Yet, —  God  shall  reward  in  a  happier  life 
Their  punishment,  patience,  and  pra/r  I 


LABOUR.  71 

Sat  woe  to  the  caitiff,  who,  starved  by  his  drinks. 

Was  starving  his  children  as  well, — 
0  Man,  break  away  from  the  treacherous  links 

Of  a  chain  that  will  drag  you  to  Hell ! 

Come  along,  come  along,  man  !  it 's  never  too  late, 

Though  drowning,  we  throw  you  a  rope ! 
Be  quick  and  be  quit  of  so  fearful  a  fate, 

For  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope! 
So  wisely  come  with  us,  and  work  like  the  rest, 

And  save  of  your  pay  while  you  can; 
And  Heaven  will  bless  you  for  doing  your  heat. 

And  helping  yourself  like  a  man ! 

For  Labour  is  money,  and  Labour  is  healthy 

And  Labour  is  duty  on  earth; 
And  never  was  honour,  or  wisdom,  or  wealth. 

But  Labour  has  been  at  its  birth ! 
The  rich, —  in  his  father,  his  friend,  or  himself. 

By  head  or  by  hand  must  have  toil'd. 
And  the  brow,  that  is  canopied  over  with  pelf, 

By  Labour's  own  sweat  has  been  soil'd! 


€iiB  Mm  Inmr. 

A   RHTME    FOR   THE   MILLION. 

Pent  in  wynds  and  closes  narrow, 

Breathing  pestilential  air, 
Crush'd  beneath  oppression's  harrow. 

Faint  with  famine,  bow'd  with  care,- 
Gaunt  Affliction's  sons  and  daughters! 

Why  so  slow  to  hear  the  call 
Which  The   Voice  upon  the  waters 

Preacbes  solemnly  to  all? 
6 


THE     N  K  W     H  O  M  E  . 

Hark !  Old  Ocean's  tongue  of  thunder 

Hoarsely  calling  bids  you  speed 
To  the  shores  he  held  asunder 

Only  for  these  times  of  need; 
Now,  upon  his  friendly  surges 

Ever  ever  roaring  Come, 
All  the  sons  of  hope  he  urges 

To  a  new,  a  richer  home ! 

England  and  her  sea-girt  sisters 

Pine  for  want  in  seeming  wealth; 
Though  the  gaudy  surface  glisters. 

This  is  not  the  hue  of  health; 
O !  the  honest  labour  trying 

Vainly  here  to  earn  its  bread, — 
O I  the  willing  workers  dying, 

Unemploy'd,  untaught,  unfed ! 

Thousand  sights  that  melt  to  pity, — 

Move  to  fear,  or  —  tempt  to  scorn  I 
Wretched  swarms  in  field  and  city, 

"Wherefore  are  these  paupers  bom !  — 
Shall  I  tell  you,  heirs  of  pleasure? 

Shall  I  teach  you,  sons  of  pain? 
Unto  both,  each  in.  his  measure, 

Stir  I  now  this  earnest  strain. 

Lo !  to  every  human  creature 
Born  upon  this  bounteous  earth, 

Speaks  the  God  of  grace  and  nature, 
Speaks  for  plenty  or  for  dearth; 

Ell  the  ground;  if  not,  thou  starvest; 

•  Fear  shall  drive  to  duteous  toil; 

Till  the  ground ;  a  golden  harvest 
Then  shall  wave  on  every  soil  I 


THENEWHOME.  Jg 

And  behold!  the  Kino  All-glorious 

Unto  Britain  tythes  the  worid, — 
Everywhere  her  crown  victorious, 

Everywhere  her  cross  unfurl'd ! 
God  hath  giv'n  her  distant  regions, 

Broad  and  rich;  and  store  of  ships j 
God  hath  added  homeborn  legions, 

Steep'd  in  trouble  to  the  lips  I 

Join  then    in  one  holy  tether 

Those  whom  Man  hath  put  aside, 
Those  whom  God  would  link  together, 

Earth  and  labour  well-applied : 
Ho!  thou  vast  and  wealthy  nation, 

"Wing  thy  fleets  to  every  place, 
Fertilizing  all  creation 

With  the  Anglo-Saxon  race! 

England's  frank  and  sturdy  bearing, 

Scotland's  judgment,  true  and  tried, 
Erin's  headlong  headstrong  daring, 

And  the  Welchman's  honest  pride;  — 
Send  these  forth,  and  tame  the  savage. 

Sow  his  realms  with  British  homes. 
Where  till  now  wild  monsters  ravage, 

Or  the  wilder  Bushman  roams! 

Jxit,  as  erst  in  Magna  Graecia, 

Nobles,  sages,  join  the  ranks; 
And  for  vacant  Austral-Asia 

Leave  for  good  these  swarming  banks; 
Not  as  exiled, —  but  with  honour! 

Told  in  tale,  and  sung  in  song; 
With  the  Queen, —  God's  blessing  on  her!  — 

Speeding  this  good  work  along! 


74  THENEWBOME. 

Then  the  wilderness  shall  blossom, 

And  the  desert,  as  the  rose; 
While  dear  Earth's  maternal  bosom 

With  abundance  overflows : 
Then  shall  Britain  gladly  number 

Crowds  of  children,  now  her  dread, 
That  her  onward  march  encumber 

With  the  living  and  —  the  dead  I 

Ay,  for  bitter  is  the  contest 

As  a  struggle,  life  for  life. 
Where  the  very  meal  thou  wantest 

Was  for  little  ones  and  wife, — 
Where  they  slowly  pine  and  perish 

That  the  father  may  be  strong. 
Some  taskmaster's  wealth  to  cherish, 

By  his  labour,  right  or  wrong ! 

Haste,  then,  all  ye  better  natures, 

Help  in  what  must  bless  the  World : 
See,  those  cellar-crowded  creatures 

To  despair's  own  dungeon  hurl'd ;  — 
Send  —  or  lead  them  o'er  the  waters 

To  the  genial  shores,  that  give 
Britain's  sacred  sons  and  daughters 

Man's  great  privilege  —  to  Live  I 

There, — instead  of  scanty  wages, 
Grinding  rent  and  parish  tax, — 

In  the  wood,  unheard  for  ages, 
Rings  the  cheerful  freeman's  axe; 

Whilst  in  yonder  cozy  clearing, 
*  Home,  sweet  Home,  rejoices  life. 

Full  of  thoughts  and  things  endearing, 
Merry  babes  and  rosy  wife ! 


THENEWHOME.  T5 

There, —  instead  of  festering  alleys, 

Noisome  dirt,  and  gnawing  dearth, — 
Sunny  hills  and  smiling  valleys 

Wait  to  yield  the  wealth  of  Earth  I 
All  She  asks  is  —  human  labour, 

Healthy  in  the  open  air; 
All  she  gives  is  —  every  neighbour 

Wealthy,  hale,  and  happy  There! 


A  BALLAD   FOR  THE   DNLUCKT. 

I  CAME  into  trouble;  and  comforting  friends 

For  charity  hasten'd  to  find 
The  very  just  cause  for  such  righteous  amends 

Rewarding  a  reprobate  mind. 

Some  hinted,  He  lives  upon  victuals  —  and  drink ; 

And  80,  to  bo  honest,  I  do; 
Some  others, —  No  wonder,  we  cannot  but  think. 

The  false  is  unfortunate  too : 

One  said,  like  a  Solomon,  Pride  has  a  fall; 

Another  condemn'd  me  for  Sloth ; 
Another  thought  neither  accounted  for  all; 

Another  felt  sure  it  was  both. 

Meanwhile  was  I  diligent,  humble,  and  pure, 

And  patiently  kissing  the  rod. 
And  took  it  all  well,  for  my  spirit  was  sure 

It  came  from  a  covenant  God. 


CALUMNY. 

Then  I  look'd  in  His  Bible,  and  found  there  a  man, 

Like  me,  with  aflSictions  and  friends ; 
And  learnt  that,  let  Satan  do  all  that  he  can, 

The  Lord  will  make  ample  amends. 

So,  trouble  went  from  me ;  and  Job  was  made  whole ; 

And  friends  slunk  away  in  their  shame : 
For  Heaven's  rich  mercy  gave  body  and  soul 

Health,  honour,  good-fortune,  and  fame. 


Blrrq  tn  !Jlniinnls. 

A   BALLAD   OF   HUMANITY. 

0  BOYS  and  men  of  British  mould, 
With  mother's  milk  within  you ! 

A  simple  word  for  young  and  old, 
A  word  to  warm  and  win  you; 

You've  each  and  all  got  human  hearts 
As  well  as  human  features. 

So  hear  me,  while  T  take  the  parts 
Of  all  the  poor  dumb  creatures. 

1  wot  your  lot  is  sometimes  rough ; 
But  theirs  is  something  rougher, — 

No  hopes,  no  loves, —  but  pain  enough, 

And  only  sense  to  suffer  : 
You,  men  and  boys,  have  friends  and  jojs, 

And  homes,  and  hopes  in  measure, — 
But  these  poor  brutes  are  only  mutes, 

And  never  knew  a  pleasure ! 


MEB0YT0ANIMAL8.  7)ti. 

A  little  water,  chaff  and  hay, 

And  sleep,  the  boon  of  Heaven, 
How  great  returns  for  these  have  thej 

To  your  advantage  given : 
And  yet  the  worn-out  horse,  or  ass, 

Who  makes  your  daily  gaining, 
Is  paid  with  goad  and  thong,  alas  I 

Though  nobly  uncomplaining.  * 

Stop,  cruel  boy!  you  mean  no  ill, 

But  never  thought  about  it, — 
Why  beat  that  patient  donkey  still? 

He  goes  as  well  without  it : 
Here,  taste  and  try  a  cut  or  two, — 

Ha!  you  can  shout  and  feel  it; 
Boy — that  w.is  Mercy's  hint  to  you, — 

In  shorter  measure  deal  it. 

Stop,  sullen  man  !  'tis  true  to  tell 

How  ill  the  world  has  used  you; 
The  farmers  did'nt  treat  you  well, 

The  squire's  self  refused  you : 
But  is  that  any  reason  why 

A  bad  revenge  you're  wreaking 
On  that  poor  lame  old  horse, — whose  eye 

Rebukes  you  without  speaking? 

O  think  not  thou  that  this  dumb  brute 

Has  no  strong  Friend  to  aid  him; 
Nor  hope,  becjiuse  his  wrongs  are  mute. 

They  rouse  not  God  who  made  him  I 
A  little  while,  and  you  are  —  dead, 

With  all  your  bitter  feelings; 
How  will  the  Judge,  so  just  and  drend, 

Reward  your  cruel  dealings  ? 


MEROT    TO    ANIMALS. 

Go,  do  some  good  before  you  die 

To  those  who  make  your  living; 
They  will  not  ask  you  reasons  why, 

Nor  tax  you  for  forgiving: 
Their  mouths  are  mute;  but  most  acute 

The  woes  whereby  you  wear  them; 
Then  come  with  me,  and  only  see 

How  easy  'tis  to  spare  them! 

Load  for'ard;  neither  goad,  nor  flog; 

For  rest  your  beast  is  flagging: 
And  do  not  let  that  willing  dog 

Tear  out  his  heart  with  dragging: 
"Wait,  wait  awhile;  those  axles  grease, 

And  shift  this  buckle's  fretting; 
And  give  that  galling  collar  ease;  — 

How  grateful  is  he  getting! 

So  poor  yourselves,  and  short  of  joys, 

Unkindly  used,  unfairly, 
I  sometimes  wonder,  men  and  boys. 

You're  merciful  so  rarely: 
If  you  have  felt  how  hunger  gripes, 

Why  famish  and  ill  use  'em? 
If  you've  been  weal'd  by  sores  and  stripes, 

How  can  you  beat  and  bruise  'em? 

0,  fear!  lest  God  has  taught  in  vain, 

And  so  your  hearts  you  harden; 
Oh,  hope !  for  lo !  He  calls  again, 

And  now'a  the  time  for  pardon: 
Yes,  haste  to-day  to  put  away 

Your  cruelties  and  curses, — 
And  man  at  least,  if  not  his  beast-, 

Shall  bless  me  for  my  verses. 


THEDOa'sPETITION.  JJ) 


AGAINST    "  THE   TRUCK   SYSTEM." 

Have  pity,  Master,  on  me !  I  scarce  can  drag  the  load, — 
I  all  but  pull  my  heartstrings  out  upon  this  stony  road; 
Yet,  with  a  cudgel  and  a  curse  my  willing  toil  you  pay, 
And  leap  upon  the  truck  behind,  to  help  me  on  my  way  I 

Half-starved,  and  weal'd,  and  bruised,  and  gall'd,  in  every  bone  1 

ache, 
And  strain  beneath  the  crushing  load,  as  if  my  back  would  break, 
The  while  athirst  I  struggle  on  among  these  dusty  ruts. 
And  dread  the  mended  places  where  the  flint  so  sharply  cuts ! 


0  Man,  0  Master  !  Nature's  hand  —  (it  is  the  hand  of  God  !) 
For  roads  like  this  made  stubborn  hoofs, — my  soft  foot  for  the  sod  ; 
Built  the  strong  frame  of  beasts  of  draught  to  pull  your  cart  or  van. 
But  gave  me  nobler  sense  and  wish  to  be  the  friend  of  Man ! 

With  faithful  zeal  to  watch  the  flock  or  homestead  night  and  day. 
To  chase  your  game,  or  bravely  hunt  the  prowling  beasts  of  prey; 
With  joyous  love  to  welcome  you,  with  courage  to  defend ;  — 
0  Man,  art  thou  "  the  friend  of  GoD  ?"  —  then  let  me  be  thy  friend. 


Yes, — learned  lords  and  sporting  men,  who  make  or  mar  the  laws, 
Why  hesitate  such  ills  to  cure, — for  is  there  not  a  cause? 
The  town  is  quit  of  dog-truck-scamps  and  cruelties  like  these, 
But  in  our  lonely  country  lanes  they  torture  as  they  please. 


THE    D  O  O    S     P  K  T  I  T  I  O  N  , 


No  eye  to  see,  no  hand  to  help, — (but  His,  long-suffering  still, 
"Who  yet  shall  bless  good's  bruised  heel,  and  crush  the  head  of  ill !) 
No  pity  in  the  cruel  heart  to  stay  the  hand  that  flogs, — 
0  senators,  consider  well  the  case  of  country-dogs. 

And  for  your  clients,  dog-truck-men, —  ask  all  the  country  through 
In  every  village,  who  is  worst  of  all  their  roughest  crew  ? 
They  '11  tell  you,  one  and  all  alike,  as  honestly  they  can, 
Our  model  rogue  and  thief  and  sot  is  —  yonder  dog-truck-man. 


A    WORD   OF   COMFORT   TO   THE   LOTAL. 

Englani>'s  heart!     0  never  fear 

The  St u Illy  good  old  stock; 
Nothing 's  false  or  hollow  here, 

But  solid  as  a  rock : 
England's  heart  is  sound  enough. 

And  safe  in  its  old  place. 
Honest,  loyal,  blithe,  and  bluflj 

And  open  as  her  face ! 

England's  heart !     With  beating  nerves 

It  rallies  for  the  throne, — 
And,  with  Luther,  well  preserves 

The  knee  for  God  alone! 
England's  heart  is  sound  enough, 

Unshaken  and  serene. 
Like  her  oak-trees  true  and  tough 

And  old, — but  glad  and  green  I 


"England's   heabt!"  81^ 

England's  heart!     All  Europe  hurl'd 

To  ruin,  strife,  and  dearth, 
Sees  yet  one  Zoar  in  the  world, 

The  Goshen  of  the  earth ! 
England's  heart  is  sound  enough, — 

And  —  though  the  skies  be  dark, 
Though  winds  be  loud,  and  waves  be  rough — 

Safe,  as  Noah's  ark ! 

England's  heart, — Ay,  God  be  praised, 

That  thus,  in  patriot  pride, 
An  English  cheer  can  yet  be  raised 

Above  the  stormy  tide  : 
Safe  enough,  and  sound  enough. 

It  thrills  the  heart  to  feel 
A  man  's  a  bit  of  English  stuff, 

True  from  head  to  heel ! 


A   RarME   FOR   ALL   GOOD    UEX    AND   TRUE. 

Whoever  I  am,  wherever  my  lot. 

Whatever  I  happen  to  be, 
Contentment  and  Duty  shall  hallow  the  spot 

That  Providence  orders  for  me; 
No  covetous  straining  and  striving  to  gain 

One  feverish  step  in  advance, — 
I  know  my  own  place,  and  you  tempt  me  in  vain 

To  hazard  a  change  and  a  chance  ! 

I  care  for  no  riches  that  are  not  my  right, 

No  honour  that  is  not  my  due; 
But  stand  in  my  station  by  day,  or  by  night, 

The  will  of  my  Master  to  do; 


MY    OWN    PLAOB. 

He  lent  me  my  lot,  be  it  humble  or  high, 

And  set  me  my  business  here; 
And  whether  I  live  in  His  service,  or  die, 

My  heart  shall  be  found  in  my  sphere ! 

If  wealthy,  I  stand  as  the  steward  of  my  King; 

K  poor,  as  the  friend  of  my  Lord; 
If  feeble,  my  prayers  and  my  praises  I  bring; 

If  stalwarth,  my  pen  or  my  sword : 
If  wisdom  be  mine,  I  will  cherish  His  gift; 

If  simpleness,  bask  in  His  love; 
If  sorrow.  His  hope  shall  my  spirit  uplift; 

If  joy,  I  will  throne  it  above  I 

The  good  that  it  pleases  my  GoD  to  bestow, 

I  gratefully  gather  and  prize; 
The  evil, —  it  can  be  no  evil,  I  know, 

But  only  a  good  in  disguise; 
And  whether  my  station  be  lowly  or  great, 

No  duly  can  ever  be  mean, 
The  factory-cripple  is  fix'd  in  his  fate 

As  well  as  a  King  or  a  Queen  ! 

For  duty's  bright  livery  glorifies  all 

With  brotherhood,  equal  and  free. 
Obeying,  as  children,  the  heavenly  call. 

That  places  us  where  we  should  be; 
A  servant, —  the  badge  of  my  servitude  shines 

As  a  jewel  invested  by  Heaven; 
A  monarch, — remember  that  justice  assigns 

Much  service,  where  so  much  is  given  ! 

Away  then  with  "helpings"  that  humble  and  harm 
Though  "bettering"  trips  from  your  tongue, 

Away !  for  your  folly  would  scatter  the  charm 
That  round  my  proud  poverty  hung: 


MY    OWN    FLAOIS. 

I  felt  that  I  stood  like  a  man  at  my  post, 
Though  peril  and  hardship  were  there, — 

And  all  that  your  wisdom  would  counsel  me  most 
Is  —  "  Leave  it ;  —  do  better  elsewhere." 

If  "better"  were  better  indeed,  and  not  "worse/' 

I  might  go  ahead  with  the  rest; 
But  many  a  gain  and  a  joy  is  a  curse, 

And  many  a  grief  for  the  best : 
No !  —  duties  are  all  the  "  advantage  "  I  use  j 

I  pine  not  for  praise  or  for  pelf; 
And  as  for  ambition,  I  care  not  to  choose 

My  better  or  worse  for  myself! 

I  will  not,  I  dare  not,  I  cannot !  —  I  stand 

Where  God  has  ordain'd  me  to  be. 
An  honest  mechanic  —  or  lord  in  the  land, — 

He  fitted  my  calling  for  me  : 
Whatever  my  state,  be  it  weak,  be  it  strong. 

With  honour,  or  sweat,  on  my  face. 
This,  this  is  ray  glory,  my  strength,  and  my  song, 

I  stand,  like  a  star,  in  mt  place. 


A  RHTME   FOR  THE   BHTMESTERS. 

No  jingler  of  rhymes,  and  no  mingler  of  phrases, 
No  tuner  of  times,  and  no  pruncr  of  daisies. 
No  lullaby  lyrist,  with  nothing  to  say. 
No  small  sentimentalist,  fainting  awny, 
No  Ardcrt  of  albums,  no  trifling  Tyrlajus, 
No  bilious  misanthrope  loathing  to  see  us^ 


"WHAT    IS    A    POKT?" 

No  gradus-and-prosody  maker  of  verses, 

No  Hector  of  tragedy  vapouring  curses, — 

In  a  word  —  though  a  long  one  —  no  mere  poetaster 

The  monkey  that  follows  some  troubadour  master, 

And  filching  from  Byron,  or  Shelley,  or  Keats, 

With  cunning  mosaic  his  coterie  cheats 

Into  voting  the  poor  petty-larceny  fool 

A  charming  disciple  of  Wordsworth's  own  school. 

Not  a  bit  of  it !  —  Pilferers,  duncy  and  dreary, — 

Human  society's  utterly  weary 

Of  gilt  insincerities,  hopping  in  verse, 

And  stately  hexameters  plumed  like  a  hearse. 

And  second-hand  sentiment,  sugar'd  with  ice. 

And  a  third  course  of  passion,  warm'd  up  very  nice, 

And  peaches  of  wax,  and  your  sham  wooden  pine, 

The  fitting  dessert  of  a  feast  so  divine] 

With  musical  lies  and  mechanical  stuff 

The  verse-ridden  world  has  been  pester'd  enough : 

But  yet  in  its  heart,  if  unsmother'd  by  words. 

It  thrills  and  it  throbs  from  its  innermost  chords 

To  generous,  truthful,  melodious  Sense, 

To  beautiful  language  and  feelings  intense. 

To  human  affection  sincerely  pour'd  out. 

To  eloquence, —  tagg'd  with  a  rhyme,  or  without; 

To  anything  tasteful,  and  hearty,  and  true, 

Delicate,  graceful,  and  noble,  and  new! 

Ay;  find  me  the  man  —  or  the  woman  —  or  child. 
Though  modest,  yet  bold ;  and  though  spirited,  mild ; 
With  a  mind  that  can  think,  and  a  heart  that  can  feel, 
And  the  tongue  and  the  pen  that  are  skill'd  to  reveal. 
And  the  eye  that  hath  wept,  and  the  hand  that  will  aid, 
And  the  brow  that  in  peril  was  never  afraid; 
With  courage  to  dare,  and  with  keenness  to  plan, 
And  tact  to  declare  what  is  pleasant  to  man 


ENVY. 

While  guiding  and  teaching  and  training  his  mind, 
While  spurring  the  lazy,  and  leading  the  blind; 
With  pureness  in  youth,  and  religion  in  age. 
And  cordial  affections  at  every  stage, — 
The  harp  of  this  woman,  this  man,  or  this  youth, 
By  genius  well  strung,  and  made  tuneful  by  truth, 
Shall  charm  and  shall  ravish  the  world  at  its  will, 
And  make  its  old  heart  yet  tremble  and  thrill, 
While  all  men  shall  own  it  and  feel  it  and  know  it 
Gladly  and  gratefully, —  Here  is  the  Poet! 


A   WORD  TO  THE   FKW. 

Whitelipp'd  sneerer,  well  I  wot 

How  you  loathe  the  great  and  wise,- 
How  his  brightness  is  a  blot 

On  your  thunder-mantled  skies; 
How  his  fame  and  good  men's  love 

Make  him  hateful  in  your  eyes, 
And  when  thus  he  soars  above. 

How  you  ache  to  see  him  rise  I 

0  you  seeming  friend,  found  out, 

In  detraction  is  your  bliss, — 
Whispering  petty  blame  about, 

With  a  subtle  serpent's  hiss : 
Lo,  the  great  man  scorns  it  all; 

Lo,  the  wise  man  makes  it  miss; 
Lo,  the  good  man  greets  your  gall 

With  a  kind  forgiving  kiss! 


WELCOME. 

Brothers!  who  have  nobly  eam'd 

Thanks  and  praise  at  least  from  man, 
If  your  good  with  scorn  is  spurn'd, 

And  your  blessing  met  by  ban, 
Brothers !  heed  we  not  their  hate 

Who  would  harm  but  never  can, — 
With  the  wise,  the  good,  the  great. 

Let  us  conquer  in  the  van ! 


A   WORD   TO   THE    MANY. 

Yes  I  welcome,  right  welcome  —  and  give  us  your  hand, — 

I  like  not  to  stand  in  the  cold  ! 
If  new  friends  are  true  friends,  I  can't  understand 

Why  hearts  should  hold  back  till  they're  old: 
For  life  is  so  short,  and  there's  so  much  to  do. 

And  so  many  pleasures  and  cares  — 
And  somewhere  I've  read  that,  though  angels  are  few, 

They  're  frequently  met  unawares ! 

The  eye  of  sincerity  shines  like  a  star 

Through  the  clouds  of  suspicion  and  doubt; 
I  love  its  fair  lustre,  and  lure  it  from  far. 

And  wouldn't  for  worlds  put  it  out : 
Away  with  such  wisdom,  as  risking  the  chance 

Of  killing  young  love  with  old  fears  — 
The  face  that  is  honest  is  known  at  a  glance, 

And  needn  't  be  studied  for  years  ! 

And  when  petty  Prudence  would  put  me  to  school 

About  caution,  and  care,  and  all  that, 
I  trust  that,  like  some  folks,  I  yield  to  the  rule 

Of  wearing  a  head  in  my  hat; 


WELCOME.  87 

But  more  that  remains  is  better  than  brains, 

And  I  know  not  that  some  folks  are  blest 
Like  me,  with  a  share  in  a  custom  more  rare, 

Of  wearing  a  heart  in  the  breast ! 

Then  come  with  all  welcome !     I  fear  not  to  fling 

Reserve  to  the  winds  and  the  waves, 
And  never  can  cling  to  the  cold-blooded  thing 

Society  makes  of  its  slaves : 
Thou  dignified  dullard,  so  cloudy  and  cold. 

Get  out  of  the  sunshine  for  me; 
But,  hearty  good  friend !  whether  new  one  or  old, 

A  Welcome  for  Ever  to  thee! 


A   FEW  CONSOLATORT  STANZAS. 

Patience  yet  one  little  hour. 
Pale,  unloved,  uncourted  flower. 

Seeing  not  the  sun; 
Patience, — heart  of  depth  and  duty, 
Yearning  for  the  smiles  of  beauty. 

Never  catching  one : 

Patience, — martyr  following  faintly, 
Gentle  nun,  serene  and  saintly. 

Kneeling  in  the  dust; 
Oh  not  vain  thy  long-enduring ! 
Still  with  meekest  might  securing 

Triumph  to  thy  trust! 
7 


88 


BALM. 

Hushing  every  mutter'd  murmur, 
Tranquil  Fortitude  the  firmer 

Girdeth  thee  with  strength; 
While,  no  treason  near  hor  lurking, 
Patience,  in  her  perfect  working, 

Shall  be  Queen  at  length. 

And,  behold!  thy  pious  daring 
Is  a  glorious  crown  preparing 

For  thine  own  sweet  brow; 
Precious  pearls  of  softest  lustre 
Shall  with  brightest  jewels  cluster 

Where  the  thorns  are  now! 

Faith  and  Patience  1  sister,  brother, — 
Lean  in  love  on  one  another. 

Calm  for  good  or  ill : 
Comforted  by  surely  knowing 
That  the  Ruler  is  bestowing 

Strength  in  sitting  still! 

0  ye  virgin  spirits  wasting, 

0  ye  hearts  of  thousands,  hasting 

Darkly  to  decay, 
Through  the  blight  of  disappointment,— 
Tenderly,  with  precious  ointment. 

Lull  those  cares  away. 

Tenderly,  with  wise  beguilings. 
Court  sweet  Patience  for  her  smilings 

On  that  ruin  drear; 
Soon,  with  other  sister  graces. 
Shall  she  make  your  hearts  and  faces  ' 

Laugh  away  their  fear: 


BALM. 


Soft  Contentment,  bright-eyed  Duty, 
Faith  in  his  archangel  beauty, 

Joy,  and  Love  sublime. 
Follow, —  Patience,  where  thy  finger 
Gently  beckons  Hope  to  linger 

On  the  wrecks  of  time ! 


A  BALLAD   FOR  THE   WOELDLT. 

How  little  and  how  lightly 

We  care  for  one  another  I 
How  seldom  and  how  slightly 

Consider  each  a  brother ! 
For  all  the  world  is  every  man 

To  his  own  self  alone. 
And  all  beside  no  better  than 

A  thing  he  does  n't  own. 

And  0,  the  shame  and  sadness, 

To  see  how  insincerely 
The  heart,  that  in  its  gladness, 

Went  forth  to  love  men  dearly. 
Is  chill'd,  and  all  its  warmth  repell'd 

As  just  a  low  mistake, 
And  half  the  cordial  yo:p-  l?igs  quell'd 

It  felt  for  others'  a-A 

The  service  it  would  render 
Ifl  call'd  intrusive  boldness. 

And  thus,  that  heart  so  tender, 
Now  hardening  to  coldness, 


90  SELFISHNESS. 

Betorns,  returns, —  a  blighted  thing ! 

To  scorn  those  early  days, 
The  freshness  of  its  green  young  spring, 

Its  beauty  and  its  praise. 


$t[i-1^umBm. 


A  BALLAD  FOR  A   MAN'S  OWN   INNER  WORLD. 

Whirling,  eddying,  ebbing  Present, 

Foamy  tide  of  strife  and  noise, 
Mingled-bitter,  mingled-pleasant, 

Loves  and  worries,  cares  and  joys, — 
0  ye  changing,  chancing  surges ! 

Calmly  doth  my  JMind  forecast 
How  your  restless  spirit  merges 

In  the  Future  and  the  Past! 

Lo,  I  stand  your  master-pilot; 

Though  the  cataracts  be  near, 
Safe  I  swing  round  rock  or  islet, 

Strong,  and  still,  and  godlike  Here ! 
Stout  I  stand,  and  sway  the  tiller 

Through  these  rapids  glancing  down, 
While  the  very  flood  flows  stiller, 

Frozen  by  my  monarch-frown ! 

O'er  the  rock-entangled  shallows 
Staunch  I  steer,  adown  the  stream; 

And  the  Past  the  Present  hallows 
With  its  melancholy  dream, — 


SELF-POSSESSION.  91 

And  the  Future,  nearing  surely 

Like  Niagara's  cliff  ahead 
Steadily  I  reach,  securely 

As  a  child  that  feels  no  dread! 

Yea,  though  earth  be  torn  asunder, — 

Or  the  secret  heart  be  vext, — 
Though  with  elemental  thunder 

Or  by  petty  cares  perplext, 
Still  I  stand,  and  rule  the  riot; 

Still  my  deep  calm  soul  is  blest 
With  its  own  imperial  quiet, 

The  sublimity  of  Rest! 

For,  a  staunch  and  stalwart  true  man, 

Fearing  God,  and  none  beside, — 
Nothing  wore,  nor  less,  than  human. 

Nothing  human  can  betide 
That  may  discuthrone  a  spirit 

Doom'd  to  reign  in  Time's  decay. 
Grandly  fated  to  inherit 

Endless  peace  in  endless  Day! 


Ilanhr. 

A    BALLAD   OF   COMFORT. 

Nevkr  you  fear;  but  go  ahead 

In  self-relying  strength  : 
What  matters  it,  that  malice  said, 

"  We  've  found  it  out  at  length  ! " 
Found  out?  found  what?  —  An  honest  man 

Is  open  as  the  light. 
So,  search  as  keenly  as  you  can. 

You  '11  only  find  —  all  right. 


BLANDER. 

Yes,  blot  bim  black  with  slander's  ink, 

Ho  stands  as  white  as  snow ! 
You  serve  him  better  than  j'ou  think, 

And  kinder  than  you  know  : 
What  ?  is  it  not  some  credit,  then, 

That  he  provokes  your  blame? 
This  merely,  with  all  better  men, 

Is  quite  a  kind  of  fame ! 

Through  good  report,  and  ill  report, 

The  good  man  goes  his  way, 
Nor  condescends  to  pay  his  court 

To  what  the  vile  may  say :  — 
Ay,  be  the  scandal  what  you  will 

And  whisper  what  you  please. 
You  do  but  fan  his  glory  still 

By  whistling  up  a  breeze. 

The  little  spark  becomes  a  flame 

If  you  won't  hold  your  tongue; 
Nobody  pays  you  for  your  blame, 

Nor  cares  to  prove  it  wrong; 
But  if  you  will  so  kindly  aid 

And  prop  a  good  man's  peace. 
Why,  really  one  is  half  afraid 

Your  ill  report  should  cease! 

Look  you  !  two  children  playing  there 

With  battledores  in  hand 
To  keep  the  shuttle  in  the  air 

Must  strike  it  as  they  stand; 
It  flags  and  falls,  if  both  should  stop, 

To  look  admiring  on, — 
And  so  Fame's  shuttlecock  would  drop 

Without  a  Pro  and  Con! 


SONNET.  93 

Lo!  ye  shall  take  up  serpents  without  fear, 

And  walk  on  scorpions,  scatheless  of  their  sting, 
And,  if  ye  drink  of  any  deadly  thing, 

It  shall  not  hurt  you  I     "What  a  power  is  here  ! 
A  sevenfold  buckler  to  our  calm  strong  hearts 
Against  the  feeble,  blunted,  broken  darts 

Of  Hate's  fierce  frown,  or  Envy's  subtle  sneer. 

O  Christian,  go  straight  on, — though  Slander  rear 
(To  freeze  thy  warmth)  her  cold  Medusa  head; 

Go  on  in  faith  and  love,  at  duty's  call : 

With  naked  feet  on  adders  shalt  thou  tread, 

Meet  perils  only  to  surmount  them  all. 
And,  out  of  bad  men's  blame,  as  good  men's  praise, 
Build  up  Grod's  blessing  on  thy  words  and  ways! 


A   BALLAD   OF   WISDOM. 
"Qire  mc  neither  poverty  nor  riches." 

Pageants  rare  of  splendid  waste 
Hurried  on  with  glittering  haste; 
Honours  high,  and  fashions  gay, — 
Teasing  pomp  by  night  and  day; 
Luxuries  that  never  cease 
Rich  in  every  zest  but  —  peace; 
Flattering  homage,  sickly  sweet. 
Pleasures  —  pleasures  ?  false  and  fleet,— 
Who  shall  swear  that  rank  and  wealth 
Have  one  bliss  except  by  stealth. 
When  the  great,  the  rich,  the  proud 
Stoop  to  imitate  the  crowd? 


M  THK    aOLOKN    MEAN. 

Aching  toil,  or  starving  rest; 
Disappointment's  bleeding  breast; 
Hopes  of  better,  never  here; 
Luck  a  laggard  in  the  rear; 
Cellar,  children,  curses,  cries. 
Furious  crime,  or  fawning  lies, — 
Food?  the  foulest,  scantly  dealt; 
Pain  ?  ay,  pain,  for  ever  felt ; 
Who,  with  Francis,  who  can  praise, 
Poverty,  thy  works  and  ways. 
Till  they  rise  above  despair, 
Till  content  hath  smother'd  care? 

Give  me,  Blessed  Father!  give 
Just  enough  in  love  to  live; 
Give  me  what  is  truly  good  — 
Grace,  and  food,  and  gratitude; 
Kindly  give  me  patience,  health. 
Anything  but  wasteful  Wealth; 
Wisely  in  Thy  mercy  grant 
Anything  but  wasting  Want; 
That  I  may  not  through  excess 
Sin  from  want  or  wantonness, — 
That  I  may  be  clear  and  clean. 
Lucid  in  the  Golden  Mean. 


A   BALLAD    FOR   THE    AGED. 

LlOHT  as  flakes  of  falling  snow 

Drop  the  silent-footed  hours; 
And  the  days, —  they  come  and  go, 
And  the  years  —  we  scarcely  know 

How  their  frosts,  aud  fruits,  and  flowers, 


TIME.  95 

Transient  crops  of  weal  and  woe, 

Change,  and  pass,  and  perish  so ! 

While  we  muse  upon  To-day 

Lo !  the  dream  has  died  away ; 

And  there  lives  what  was  To-morrow, 

With  its  present  joy  or  sorrow. 

Pains  and  pleasures,  fear  and  hope, 

A  variable  kaleidoscope : 

So  on,  so  on;  till  years  have  sped 

By  tens  and  twenties  over  head, 

And  those  flakes  that  fell  unfelt 

Have  grown  to  snows  —  that  never  melt! 


A  LOTAL  Ballad,  April,  1848. 

How  glorious  is  thy  calling, 

My  happy  Fatherland, 
While  all  the  thrones  are  falling 

In  righteousness  to  stand. 
Amid  the  earthquakes  heaving  thus 

To  rest  in  pastures  green, — 
Then,  God  be  praised  who  helpeth  uB| 

And  —  God  preserve  the  Queen  1 

How  glorious  is  thy  calling ! 

In  sun  and  moon  and  stars 
To  see  the  signs  appalling 

Of  prodigies  and  wars, — 
Yet  by  thy  grand  example  still 

From  lies  the  world  to  wean, 
Then,  God  bo  praised  who  guards  from  ill, 

And-  — God  preserve  the  Queen! 


"GOD    PRESERVE    THE    QUEEN  I" 

Within  thy  sacred  border 

Amid  the  sounding  seas, 
Religion,  Right,  and  Order 

Securely  dwell  at  case; 
And  if  we  lift  this  beacon  bright, 

Among  the  nations  seen, 
Wc  bless  the  Lord  who  loves  the  right^ 

And  —  God  preserve  the  Queen ! 

Fair  pastures  and  still  waters 

Are  ours  withal  to  bless 
The  thronging  sons  an^  daughters 

Of  exile  and  distress; 
For  who  so  free,  as  English  hearts 

Are,  shall  be,  and  have  been? 
Then,  God  be  thank'd  on  our  parts, 

And  —  God  preserve  the  Queen! 

Though  strife  and  fear  and  madness 

Are  raging  all  around, 
There  still  is  peace  and  gladness 

On  Britain's  holy  ground; 
But  not  to  us  the  praise, —  to  us 

Our  glory  is  to  lean 
On  Him  who  giveth  freely  thus, 

And  —  God  preserve  the  Queen  I 

O  nation  greatly  favour'd, 

If  ever  thou  shouldst  bring 
A  sacrifice  well  savour 'd 

Of  praise  to  God  the  King, 
Now,  now,  let  all  thy  children  raise 

In  faith  and  love  serene, 
The  loyal  patriot  hymn  of  praise 

Of —  God  preserve  the  Queen ! 


▲    BALLAD    FOR    THE    PRINCE    ALFRED.  f7 

%  ^Dallttli  far  tJiB  fmu  IIM; 

On  nis  Birthday,  August  6,  1849. 

A  THOUSAND  years  ago, 

A  mighty  spirit  came 
To  earn  himself  through  weal  and  woe 

An  everlasting  name ! 

The  Great,  the  Wise,  the  Good, 

Was  Alfred  in  his  time. 
And  then  before  his  God  he  stood 

An  heir  of  bliss  sublime ! 

And  many  changes  since 

And  wondrous  things  have  been, 
Till  in  another  English  prince. 

Again  is  Alfred  seen. 

Though  never  call'd  to  rule, 

Nor  ever  forced  to  fight. 
May  he  grow  up  in  Alfred's  school 

A  child  of  love  and  light: 

In  Learning  and  in  Grace 

Exceeding  great  and  wise, 
With  goodness  run  his  happy  race, 

And  reign  beyond  the  skies! 


A  NATIONAL  ANTHEM   FOB   LIBERIA  IN  AHEIIOA. 


%  Satinnal  Mkm  for  Xihma  in  ^Ifrira. 


Praise  ye  the  Lord  !  for  this  new-born  Star, 
On  the  blue  firmament  blazing  afar, 
Bless  ye  the  Lord  !  —  our  souls  to  cheer 
"  The  love  of  liberty  brought  us  here ! " 

Hail  to  Liberia's  beacon  bright, 
Luring  us  home  with  its  silver  light, 
Where  we  may  sing  without  peril  or  fear 
"  The  love  of  liberty  brought  us  here  1 " 

Hail!  new  home  on  the  dear  old  shore 
Where  Ham's  dark  sons  dwelt  ever  of  yore, 
Thou  shalt  be  unto  us  doubly  dear. 
For  "love  of  liberty  brought  us  here!" 

Come,  ye  children  of  Africa,  come. 
Bring  hither  the  viol,  the  pipe,  and  the  drum, 
To  herald  this  Star  on  its  bright  career. 
For  "love  of  liberty  brought  us  here!" 

Come, — with  peace  and  to  all  good-will; 

Yet  ready  to  combat  for  insult  or  ill, — 

Come,  with  the  trumpet,  the  sword,  and  *he  spear, 

For  "love  of  liberty  brought  us  here!" 

Thanks  unto  God  !  who  hath  broken  th*»  chain 
That  bound  us  as  slaves  on  the  Western  main; 
Thanks,  white  brothers!     Oh,  thanks  sincere, 
Whose  "love  of  liberty  brought  us  here!" 


A  NATIONAL   ANTHEM   FOR   LIBERIA   IN   AFRICA.  «9 

Yes, — ye  have  rescued  us  as  from  the  grave, 
And  a  freeman  made  of  the  desperate  slave, 
That  ye  may  call  him  both  brother  and  peer, 
For  "  love  of  liberty  brought  us  here  I" 

Thanks !  0  raise  that  shout  once  more, — 
Thanks !  let  it  thrill  Liberia's  shore, — 
Thanks !  while  we  our  standard  rear, 
"The  love  of  liberty  brought  us  here!" 

Thine,  Columbia,  thine  was  the  hand 
That  set  us  again  on  our  own  dear  land, 
We  will  remember  thee  far  or  near. 
For  "love  of  liberty  brought  us  here!'* 

Yes,  Liberia !  freemen  gave 
Freedom  and  Thee  to  the  ransom'd  slave; 
Then  out  with  a  shout  both  loud  and  clear^ 
"Love  of  liberty  brought  us  here!" 


€JIB  libtrian  %mu\L 

A  THOUSAND  miles  of  rugged  shore, 

And  not  a  lighthouse  seen  ? 
Alas,  the  thousand  years  of  yore 

That  such  a  shame  hath  been  I 
Alas,  that  Afric's  darkling  race, 

The  savages  and  slaves, 
Never  have  known  the  gleam  of  grace 

On  their  Atlantic  waves! 


119  THK    LIUEKIAN     UK  AGON. 

Never — till  Now!     0  glorious  light, 

The  beacon  is  ablaze ! 
And  half  the  terrors  of  the  night 

Are  scattered  by  its  rays ! 
Forth  from  the  starry  heaven'd  West 

Was  lit  this  glowing  torch, 
For,  dear  Columbia's  sons  have  blest 

Liberia  with  —  a  Church  I 

Yes, —  young  Columbia  leads  the  way, 

And  shows  our  hard  old  world 
How  slavery  in  the  sight  of  day 

Can  wisest  be  downhurl'd; 
Not  by  the  bloody  hand  of  power 

That  mangles  while  it  frees, 
But  by  Religion's  calmer  hour, 

And  Freedom  of  the  seas ! 

_^     Yes,  brothers !     Patience  is  the  word,— 

And  Prudence  in  your  zeal : 
Where  these  sweet  angels  well  are  heard 

They  work  the  common  weal : 
The  North  must  wait ;  the  South  be  toise ; 

And  both  unite  in  love 
To  help  the  slave  beneath  the  skies 

Who  is  no  slave  above  1 


THELIBKRIAN     CHURCH.  101 


A  SONNET. 

Not  freedom  only  be  Liberia's  boast, — 

Nor  chiefly,  Africa,  thy  sons  retum'd 
To  those  dear  palmy  plains  and  tropic  coast 

For  which  so  long  in  alien  climes  they  yearned; 
No  1  —  but  a  blessing,  to  be  sought  the  most 

Wherever  men  for  truest  treasure  search, 
Shall  be  thy  praise,  Liberia!  —  lo,  at  length. 

As  in  St.  Cyprian's  day,  a  Christian  Church 
With  its  Apostle  stands  in  holy  strength, 

A  uewlit  beacon  on  poor  Afric's  shore; 
And  round  it  now  the  darkling  heathen  throng. 

And  Ethiopia's  outstretch'd  hands  implore 
Of  thee,  Salvation's  hallow'd  gospel  song, 

Of  thee,  Liberia,  blest  for  evermore. 


%  Jiatinnfll  l^rnijn  against  tljf  dDjinUra. 

O  God  !  the  Good,  the  Gracious,  and  the  Just, 
Consider  Thou,  and  hear  Thy  people's  prayer; 

In  thee  alone  Thy  trembling  creatures  trust. 
And  leave  their  sorrows  to  a  Father's  care. 

Through  Christ  who  died,  we  live  again  to  Tlioe; 

Through  Christ  who  lives,  we  come  before  Thy  throne ; 
Though  all  beside  in  us  corruption  be, 

The  good  lie  gives  we  gladly  claim  and  own. 
9* 


102  A   NATIONAL   PRAYER  AQAINST   TUE   CHOLERA. 

Now,  for  His  sake,  (Thy  gift  to  ns,  our  God,") 

In  mercy  look  on  us,  in  mercy  save; 
Take,  take  away  this  sharp  and  chast'ning  rod. 

And  leave  us  humbly  to  the  good  it  gave. 

We  would  be  kind  to  Thine  own  flock,  the  poor; 

We  would  be  wise,  and  temperate,  and  clean; 
By  alms  be  peaceful,  and  by  prayer  secure, 

Trust  to  Thy  help,  and  on  Thy  promise  lean. 

Grateful,  courageous,  penitent,  and  kind, 

0  thus  let  us  Thy  holy  lesson  learn; 
Win  through  the  body  mercies  on  the  mind, 

And  from  this  baneful  plague  Thy  blessings  earn 

Yea,  Father,  let  thy  wrath  be  overpast, 

Now  bid  the  sunshine  of  Thy  love  appear; 
Sweep  from  the  land  that  pestilential  blast. 

And  haste  to  save  us  from  the  foe  we  fear! 
Who,  who  shall  combat  his  mysterious  might? 

Who,  but  the  "stronger  than  the  strong  man  armed ?"- 
Help  the  poor  captives  in  that  hideous  flight. 

And  be  their  terror  by  Thy  mercy  charm'd! 

Heal  thou  the  sick;  deliver  Thou  the  whole; 

Bid  the  fierce  Angel  spare,  and  not  destroy; 
With  Thy  salvation  greet  each  parting  soul. 

And  turn  our  sorrows  into  songs  of  joy. 


«r 


COURAGE.  108 


€uxiip. 

A.  BALLAD  FOB  TROUBLOITS  TinS. 

Dangers  do  but  dare  me, 
Terrors  cannot  scare  me, 
God  my  guide,  I'll  bear  me 

Manfully  for  ever, —    . 
Trouble's  darkest  hour 
Shall  not  make  me  cower 
To  the  Spectre's  power, — 

Never,  never,  never! 

Up,  my  heart,  and  brace  thee, 
"While  the  perils  face  thee, 
In  thyself  encase  thee 

Manfully  for  ever, — 
Foes  may  howl  around  me. 
Fears  may  hunt  and  hound  me,— 
Shall  their  yells  confound  me? 

Never,  never,  never! 

Constant,  calm,  unfearing. 

Boldly  persevering, 

In  good  conscience  steering 

Manfully  for  ever, — 
Winds  and  waves  defying. 
And  on  God  relying. 
Shall  He  find  me  flying? 

Never,  never,  NsvxbI 

8 


104 


A    HYMN    AND    A    CHANT. 

m 

a  IBpn  null  a  Cjjflnt. 

For  ths  Hartest-home  of  1847 

A  HYMN. 

0  NATION,  Christian  nation, 

Lift  high  the  hymn  of  praise  t 
The  God  of  our  salvation 

Is  love  in  all  his  ways; 
He  blesseth  us,  and  feedeth 

Every  creature  of  His  hand. 
To  succour  him  that  needeth 

And  to  gladden  all  the  land ! 

Rejoice,  ye  happy  people, 

And  peal  the  changing  chime 
From  every  belfried  steeple 

In  symphony  sublime; 
Let  cottage  and  let  palace 

Be  thankful  and  rejoice, 
And  woods,  and  hills,  and  vallejB, 

Re-echo  the  glad  voice ! 

From  glen,  and  plain,  and  city 

Let  gracious  incense  rise. 
The  Lord  of  life  in  pity 

Hath  heard  his  creatures'  cries; 
And  where  in  fierce  oppressing 

Stalk'd  fever,  fear,  and  dearth, 
He  pours  a  triple  blessing 

To  fill  and  fatten  earth! 


A    HYMN    AND    A    CHANT.  105 

Graze  rouad  in  deep  emotion: 

The  rich  and  ripen'd  grain 
Is  like  a  golden  ocean 

Becalm'd  upon  the  plain; 
And  we,  who  late  were  weepers 

Lest  judgment  should  destroy, 
Now  sing  because  the  reapers 

Are  come  again  with  joy  I 

0  praise  the  hand  that  giveth 

— And  giveth  evermore, — 
To  every  soul  that  liveth 

Abundance  flowing  o'er! 
For  every  soul  He  filleth 

With  manna  from  above, 
And  over  all  distilleth 

The  unction  of  His  love. 

Then  gather,  Christians,  gather 

To  praise  with  heart  and  voic« 
The  good  Almighty  Father, 

Who  biddeth  you  rejoice  : 
For  He  hath  tum'd  the  sadness 

Of  His  children  into  mirth. 
And  we  will  sing  with  gladness 

The  harvest-home  of  earth  I 


A  CHANT. 

0  BLE88  the  God  of  harvest,  praise  Him  through  the  land. 
Thank  Him  for  His  precious  gifts.  His  help,  and  liberal  love: 
I 'raise  Him  for  the  fields,  that  have  render'd  up  their  riches, 
And,  dress'd  in  sunny  stubbles,  take  their  sabbath  after  toil; 
Praise  Him  for  the  close-shorn  plains,  and  uplands  lying  barOi 


106  AHYMNANDACHANT. 

And  meadows,  where  the  sweet-breath'd  hay  was  stack'd  in  early 

summer ; 
Praise  Him  for  the  wheat-sheaves,  gather'd  safely  into  barn, 
And  scattering  now  their  golden  drops  beneath  the  sounding  flail ; 
Praise  Him  for  the  barley-mow,  a  little  hill  of  sweetness, 
Praise  Him  for  the  clustering  hop,  to  add  its  fragrant  bitter  j 
Praise  Him  for  the  wholesome  root,  that  fatten'd  in  the  furrow, 
Praise  him  for  the  mellow  fruits,  that  bend  the  groaning  bough : 
For  blessings  on  thy  basket,  and  for  blessings  on  thy  store, 
For  skill  and  labour  prosper'd  well,  by  gracious  suns  and  showers, 
For  mercies  on  the  home,  and  for  comforts  on  the  hearth, 
0  happy  heart  of  this  broad  land,  praise  the  GoD  of  harvest  I 

All  ye  that  have  no  tongue  to  praise,  we  will  praise  Him  for  you. 
And  offer  on  our  kindling  souls  the  tribute  of  your  thanks : 
Trees,  and   shrubs,  and  the   multitude  of  herbs,  gladdening   the 

eyes  with  verdure. 
For  all  your  leaves  and  flowers  and  fruits,  we  praise  the  God  of 

harvest ! 
Birds,  and  beetlea  in  the  dust,  and  insects  flitting  on  the  air. 
And  ye  that  swim  the  waters  in  your  scaly  coats  of  mail. 
And  steers,  resting  after  labour,  and  timorous  flocks  afold, 
And  generous  horses,  yoked  in  teams  to  draw  the  creaking  wains, 
For  all  your  lives,  and  every  pleasure  solacing  that  lot. 
Your  sleep,  and  food,  and   animal   peace,  we  praise  the  G()i>  of 

harvest ! 
And  ye,  0  some  who  never  pray'd,  and  therefore  cannot  praise; 
Poor  darkling  sons  of  care  and  toil  and  unillumined  night. 
Who  rose  betimes,  but  did  not  ask  a  blessing  on  your  work, 
Who  lay  down  late,  but  render'd  no  thank-offering  for  that  blessing 
Which  all  unsought  He  sent,  and  all  unknown  ye  gather'd, — 
Alas,  for  you  and  in  your  stead,  we  praise  the  God  of  harvest! 

0  ye  famine-stricken  glens,  whose  children  shriek'd  for  bread, 
And  noisome  alleys  of  the  town,  where  fever  fed  on  hunger,— 


A     U  Y  M  N     A  N  I>    A    C  U  A  N  T .  107 

0  ye  children  of  despair,  bitterly  bewailing  Erin, 
Come  and  join  my  cheerful  praise,  for  God  hath  answer'd  prayer: 
Praise  Him  for  the  better  hopes,  and  signs  of  better  times. 
Unity,  gratitude,  contentment;  industry,  peace,  and  plenty; 
Bless  Him  that  His  chastening  rod  is  now  the  sceptre  of  forgiveness, 
And  in  your  joy  remember  well  to  praise  the  God  of  harvest! 

Come,  come  along  with  me,  and  swell  this  grateful  song, 
Ye  nobler  hearts,  old  England's  own,  her  children  of  the  soil: 
All  ye  that  sow'd  the  seed  in  faith,  with  those  wha  reap'd  in  joy, 
And  he  that  drove  the  plough  afield,  with  all  the  scatter'd  gleaners. 
And  maids  who   milk   the   lowing  kine,  and  boys  that  tend  the 

sheep, 
And  men  that  load  the  sluggish  wain  or  neatly  thatch  the  rick, — 
Shout   and   sing  for  happiness  of  heart,  nor  stint  your  thrilling 

cheers, 
But  malje  the  merry  farmer's  hall  resound  with  glad  rejoicings. 
And  let  him  spread  the  hearty  feast  for  joy  at  harvest-home. 
And  join  this  cheerful  song  of  praise, —  to  bl&ss  the-GoD  of  harvest  I 


I^arnrst  fi]\m\i 

Fob  1849. 

Again,  through  every  county 

Of  Britain's  happy  shores 
The  Great  Creator's  bounty 

Unstinted  plenty  pours; 
Again  to  Him  returning 

In  thankfulness  we  raise, 
Our  hearts  within  us  burning, 

The  sacrifice  of  praise. 


108  HARVEST    HYMN. 

0  great  as  is  Thy  glory, 

Thy  goodness  doth  excel ! 
What  harp  can  hymn  the  story? 

What  tongue  the  tale  can  tell? 
The  boundless  breadth  of  Nature 

Is  spread  beneath  Thy  throne, 
And  every  living  creature 

Is  fed  by  Thee  alone ! 

Rejoice!  for  overflowing 

Is  each  abundant  field; 
The  Lord  has  blest  the  sowing, 

The  Lord  has  blest  the  yield: 
The  mower  has  mown  double, 

The  reaper  doubly  reap'd, 
And  from  the  shining  stubble 

Her  head  the  gleaner  heap'dl 

Rejoice!  for  mercy  blesses. 

And  judgment  smites  no  more; 
The  God  of  grace  possesses 

Araunah's  threshing-floor : 
The  gains  of  honest  labour 

Are  shower'd  from  above, 
And  neighbour  looks  on  neighbour 

In  happiness  and  love. 

0  men  of  all  conditions, 

The  high,  or  humbly-born, — 
Away  with  low  seditions  ! 

Away  with  lofty  scorn ! 
Mix  kindly  with  each  other, — 

For  God  has  given  to  all 
The  common  name  of  brother, 

And  gladdens  great  and  small. 


HARVEST    HYMN.  109 

And  Erin !  thou  that  starvest 

So  patient  on  thy  sod, — 
To  thee,  to  thee,  this  harvest 

Is  come,  the  gift  of  GoD ! 
Cheer  up,  though  woes  oppress  thee; 

Be  diligent  and  true; 
And,  with  thy  Queen  to  hless  thee, 

Her  King  shall  bless  thee  too  I 


Foe  1850. 

Praise  ye  the  Lord  for  his  bountiful  favour, — 

0  let  the  people  be  glad  and  rejoice ! 
High  shall  the  hymn,  an  acceptable  savour, 

Rise  to  His  throne  from  the  heart  and  the  voice: 
For  the  Great  King  in  His  royal  redundance 

Fills  us  with  blessings  enough  and  to  spare. 
Fruits  in  full  plenty,  and  bread  in  abundance, — 

Glory  to  God  for  His  fatherly  care ! 

0  all  ye  nations!  from  season  to  season 

Kindly  commands  He  the  earth  that  it  yield 
Then  let  us  render  in  right  and  in  reason 

Gratitude  due  for  the  gifts  of  the  field; 
Diligence,  faith,  and  contentment  are  Duty, 

And  if  He  blesses  them  all  with  increase, 
Thank  Him,  that  earth  in  its  bounty  and  beauty 

Pours  on  us  wealth,  and  abundance,  and  peace! 

10 


110  A    HARVEST   HYMN. 

"We  are  His  children,  and  God  our  Father; 

Then  will  we  love  one  another  the  more;  — 
While  He  is  generous,  let  us  the  rather 

Thank  him  for  blessing  the  basket  and  store! 
Earth  is  Man's  heritage,  granted  by  heaven; 

If  the  Great  Master  has  made  us  His  heirs 
Here  and  hereafter  i-edeem'd  and  forgiven, — 

O  let  us  greet  Him  with  praises  and  prayers! 


33n{r-f  irking. 

A  THYRSUS  grove  it  seem'd,  of  standing  spears 
Wildly  festoon'd  with  gadding  wreaths  of  green; 

Yet,  not  as  if  old  Bacchus  and  his  peers 
In  tipsy  rout  and  frolic  there  had  been 
To  hurl  them  up  on  end  with  all  their  sheen,— 

But  orderly  set  forth  in  warrior  rank 

Giants  array'd,  with  fighting-room  at  flank, 

Caparison'd,  and  heavily  plumed  a-top 

With  clustering  bells :  —  and,  are  these  Dryad  bands, 
Or  groups  of  Oreades,  so  blythcly  seen 

To  gather  in  with  songs  that  golden  crop. 

Crushing  its  fragrance  in  their  sportive  hands? 

No!  dreamer:  —  let  Arcadian  fancies  drop; 

These  are  but  hop-pickers, —  and  that  the  Hop. 


^SHOETREPLY.  Ill 

%  lljDrt  Hrplii. 

TO   OXE    WHO    "disliked   POETRY." 

Lady,  thou  lovest  high  and  holy  Thought 

And  noble  Deeds,  and  Hopes  sublime  or  beauteous, 
Thou  lovest  charities  in  secret  wrought, 

And  all  things  pure,  and  generous,  and  duteous; 
What  then  if  these  be  drest  in  robes  of  power, 

Triunophant  woeds,  that  thrill  the  heart  of  man, 
Conquering  for  good  beyond  the  flitting  hour, 

With  stately  march,  and  music  in  the  van? 


A   WORD   TO  THE    RICH. 

Written  for  the  Liverpool  ffospitaU,  Aug.  1849. 

Foe  Charity's  sake !  to  the  poor  of  the  land 

Your  generous  blessing  extend, — 
While  Need  and  Affliction  with  suppliant  hand 

Solicit  your  help  as  a  friend; 
Remember,  the  Master  of  these,  as  of  us, 

On  earth  was  a  brother  in  need. 
And  all  that  ye  give  to  the  desolate  thus, 

To  Him  do  ye  give  it  indeed  I 

To  Him !  —  in  his  Judgment,  a  fiery  sword 
Hath  smitten,  and  scatter'd,  and  slain: 

To  Him !  —  in  His  Mercy,  the  sword  of  the  Lord 
Returns  to  its  scabbard  again : 


112  CHARITY. 

To  Him!  —  for  the  God  who  was  pleased  to  be  Man, 

In  reason  expects  of  His  kin 
To  strive  against  evil,  and  do  what  we  can 

To  chase  away  sorrow  and  sin. 

0  Britain !  dear  home  of  the  good  and  the  great, 

The  kind,  and  the  fair,  and  the  free, — 
The  nations  applaud  thee  for  strength  and  for  state, 

And  marvel  thy  glory  to  see : 
Because  —  through  the  length  and  the  breadth  of  thy  land 

True  Charity  scatters  her  seed; 
And  Heaven  still  strengthens  the  heart  and  the  hand 

That  blesses  a  brother  in  need! 

Ay,  Britain  !  the  destitute's  refuge  and  rest, 

O'ershadow'd  with  olives  and  palms. 
In  war  thou  art  prosper'd,  in  peace  thou  art  blest 

Because  of  thy  prayers  and  thine  alms : 
The  soft  rain  of  heaven  makes  fertile  thy  fields. 

And  so  in  sweet  incense  again 
It  rises  like  dew  o'er  the  harvest  it  yields, 

To  solace  the  children  of  pain. 

Then  hasten,  ye  wealthy!  to  bless  and  be  blest. 

By  giving  to  God  of  His  own : 
He  asks  you  to  help  the  diseased  and  distrest. 

He  pleads  in  the  pang  and  the  moan ! 
In  vain? — can  it  be? — shall  the  Saviour  in  vain 

Petition  His  pensioners  thus? 
Oh  no !  with  all  gladness  we  give  Him  again 

What  He  giveth  gladly  to  us! 


THEMANABOUTTOWN.  US 

^t  ^Au  Dhnnt  '^Dran. 

EviTrETED  loiterer,  pilgrim  of  fashion, 

Sunless  and  hard  is  thy  frost-bitten  heart; 
Scoffing  at  nature's  affection  and  passion, 

Till  thou  hast  made  the  sad  angels  depart: 
Sinner  and  fool !  to  be  searing  and  sealing 

All  the  sweet  fountains  of  spirit  and  truth  — 
Quick  to  be  free  from  the  freshness  of  feeling. 

Swift  to  escape  from  the  fervours  of  youth. 

Woe  to  thee  —  woe!  for  thy  criminal  coldness; 

Oh,  I  could  pity  thee,  desolate  man, 
But  that  those  eyes,  in  their  insolent  boldness, 

Tempt  me  to  scorn  such  a  state,  if  I  can : 
Wearied  of  hunting  the  shadows  of  pleasures, 

Thou  art  half  dead  in  the  prime  of  thy  days, 
Emptied  of  Heaven's  and  Earth's  better  treasures, 

Victim  and  slave  to  the  world  and  its  ways ! 

Early  and  late  at  thy  dull  dissipation. 

Listlessly  indolent  even  in  sin. 
What  is  thy  soul  but  a  pool  of  stagnation, 

Calmness  without,  and  corruption  within  ? 
Happiness,  honour,  and  peace,  and  affection  — 

These  were  thy  heritage  every  one, — 
But  as  thou  meetest  them  all  with  rejection. 

They  have  rejected  thee,  Prodigal  Son ! 

0  that  humility,  gracious  as  duteous, 

Lighten 'd  those  eyelids  so  heavy  with  scorn ! 
0  that  sincerity,  blessed  as  beauteous. 

Gilded  thy  night  with  the  promise  of  morn ! 
Frankness  of  mind  is  the  best  of  high  breeding  — 

Kindness  of  soul  the  true  Gentleman's  part; 
And  the  first  fashion  all  fashions  exceeding. 

Is  the  warm  gush  of  a  generous  heart  I 


114  A  PKAYER  FOB  TH£  LAND. 


Avfftut  6,  1848. 

Almighty  Father!  hearken, — 

Forgive,  and  help,  and  bless, 
Nor  let  thine  anger  darken 

The  night  of  our  distress; 
As  sin  and  shame  and  weakness 

Are  all  we  call  our  own. 
We  turn  to  Thee  in  meekness, 

And  trust  on  Thee  alone. 

0  God,  remember  Zion, — 

And  pardon  all  her  sin ! 
Thy  mercy  we  rely  on 

To  rein  Thy  vengeance  in : 
Though  dark  pollution  staineth 

The  temple  Thou  hast  built, 
Thy  faithfulness  remaineth, — 

And  that  shall  cleanse  the  guilt  1 

To  Thee,  then.  Friend  All-seeing, 

Great  source  of  grace  and  love, 
In  whom  we  have  our  being, 

In  whom  we  live  and  move, — 
Jerusalem,  obeying 

Thy  tender  word,  "Draw  near," 
Would  come  securely,  praying 

In  penitence  and  fear. 

Thou  knowest.  Lord,  the  peril 
Our  ill  deserts  have  wrought, 

If  earth  for  us  is  sterile 
And  all  our  labour  nought! 


APRAYERPORTHELAND.  116 

Alas, — our  righteous  wages 

Are  famine,  plague,  and  sword,  * 
Unless  Thy  wrath  assuages 

In  mercy,  gracious  Lord! 

For  lo!  we  know  Thy  terrors 

Throughout  the  world  are  rife, 
Seditions,  frenzies,  errors, 

Perplexities  and  strife ! 
Thy  woes  are  on  the  nations. 

And  Thou  dost  scatter  them,^ 
Yet  heed  the  supplications 

Of  Thy  Jerusalem ! 

Truth,  Lord,  we  are  unworthy, 

Unwise,  untrue,  unjust, 
Our  souls  and  minds  are  earthy, 

And  cleaving  to  the  dust : 
But  pour  Thy  graces  o'er  us. 

And  quicken  us  at  heart,— 
Make  straight  Thy  way  before  us, 

And  let  us  not  depart! 

Turn  us,  that  we  may  fear  Thee, 

And  worship  day  by  day, — 
Draw  us,  that  wo  draw  near  Thee, 

To  honour  and  obey; 
Be  with  us  all  in  trouble. 

And,  as  our  Saviour  still, 
Lord,  recompense  us  double 

With  good  for  all  our  ill! 

Though  we  deserve  not  pity. 

Yet,  Lord,  all  bounty  yield,— 
All  blessings  in  the  city. 

And  blessings  in  the  field, 


U0  A    PRAYER     FOR    THE    LAND. 

On  folded  flocks  and  cattle, 
'  On  basket  and  on  store, 
In  peace,  and  in  the  battle. 
All  blessings  evermore ! 

All  good  for  earth  and  heaven!— 

For  we  are  bold  to  plead 
As  through  thy  Son  forgiven, 

And  in  Him  sons  indeed! 
Yea,  Father  !  as  possessing 

In  Thee  our  Father-God, 
Give,  give  us  every  blessing. 

And  take  away  Thy  rod! 


A  RESPONSE   TO   "THE   PRAYER   FOR  THE  LAND.'' 

September  18,  1848. 

We  thank  Thee,  King  of  Heaven ! 

We  bless  Thee,  glorious  Lord  I 
Because  Thy  grace  hath  given 

The  mercies  we  implored; 
Because  Thy  love  rejoices 

To  smile  Thy  wrath  away, 
We  come  with  hearts  and  voices 

To  praise  as  well  as  pray  ! 

0  now  regard  with  favour 

The  sacrifice  we  bring, 
As  incense  of  sweet  savour. 

As  Abel's  offering; 
As  Noah's,  when  he  raised  Thee 

An  altar  near  the  ark; 
As  Jonah's,  when  he  praised  Thee 

Beneath  the  waters  dark  I 


praise!  IIY 

m 

For  lo!  Thy  bounteous  promise 

Is  sure  to  those  who  pray, 
Averting  evil  from  us 

And  helping  us  alway; 
And  though  we  all  have  wander'd 

In  sinfulness  and  shame, — 
Yet  once  again  our  standard  • 

We  set  up  in  thy  name ! 

Thy  constant  mercy  deigneth 

A  covenant  of  peace; 
So  long  as  earth  remaineth. 

Its  plenty  shall  not  cease; 
Still  in  Thy  holy  keeping 

Our  grateful  eyes  behold 
The  sowing  and  the  reaping, 

As  in  the  days  of  old! 

Yea, —  though  in  righteous  reason 

Thy  judgments  might  have  frown'd, 
The  harvest  in  its  season 

Hath  joyfully  come  round; 
And  while  our  sins  are  grievous 

And  make  us  fear  the  rod, 
Thy  pity  doth  relieve  us 

Because  we  hope  in  God  I 

»> 
Thee,  Thee  alone  for  ever 

Thy  children  still  shall  praise, 
And  duteously  endeavour 

To  walk  in  all  Thy  ways; 
Still  hoping  and  still  asking 

Thy  pardon  and  Thy  love, 
And  in  the  sunshine  basking 

Of  ble,ssings  from  above  ! 


118  LIBEETY. 


t\Mr\ — €^u\i\r\ — /ratBrnitij. 


LIBERTY". 

Liberty  !  — Who  shall  be  free  ?  — 
The  winds  of  the  air,  and  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
And  the  beast  in  his  lair,  and  the  bird  on  its  tree, 
And  the  savage  who  battles  with  boars  and  with  bears 
For  the  root  that  he  grubs,  or  the  flesh  that  he  tears,— 

Liberty,  these  are  for  thee  I 

Liberty? — How  can  it  be 
That  reason,  and  duty,  and  science,  and  skill. 
And  order,  and  beauty,  are  lawgivers  still. 
And  yet  that  responsible  Man  can  be  found 
Untrammell'd  by  rules,  and  by  harness  unbound?  — 

Liberty,  No  man  is  free. 

Liberty? — sadness  to  see 
Were  the  heart  without  love,  or  the  mind  without  fear 
For  The  Father  above,  and  His  Family  here; 
"And  faith  and  affection,  constraining  or  fond. 
What  are  they  but  chains,  an  invincible  bond. 

Liberty,  manacling  Thee? 

Liberty,  look  not  on  me 
With  a  Siren's  smile  on  thy  beautiful  face. 
And  a  treacherous  wile  in  thy  warm  embrace : 
No!  let  me  feel  fetter'd, —  a  martyr,  a  slave 
To  honour  and  duty  from  cradle  to  grave! 

Liberty,  1*11  none  of  Thee. 


LIBERTT.  119 

Liberty  I  — "fetter'd,"  yet  free: 
For  the  chain  that  we  wear  is  of  roses  and  balm, 
And  the  badge  that  we  bear  is  The  Conqueror's  palm, 
And  the  licence  we  loathe  is  a  freedom  to  Sin, 
And  the  thraldom  we  love  is  Obedience  within, 

Liberty,  leading  to  Thee  ! 

Liberty  !  —  for  thou  shalt  be 
My  glorious  reward  in  a  happier  clime. 
From  the  hand  of  my  Lord,  who  hath  bound  me  to  Time 
As  a  bondsman  here  for  a  year  and  a  day 
To  reign  as  a  King  for  ever  and  aye. 

Holy,  and  happy,  and  Free! 


EQUALITY. 

Pining  Envy's  feeble  hope, 
Shipwreck's  last  despairing  rope. 
Idle  wish  from  Satan  sent. 
Ruffian  prize  of  Discontent, 
Dull  debasing  sordid  thing 
Crushing  down  each  generous  spring, 
Stern  Procrustes*  iron  bed 
To  rack  the  feet  or  lop  the  head,— 
Where  in  all  life's  social  book 
Shall  your  purblind  statesman  look, 
Where, — Equality,  to  find 
A  sillier  lie  to  cheat  mankind? 

Tell  the  truth,  yea  tell  it  out, 
Nature,  without  fear  or  doubt; 
Tell  it  out  that  never  yet 
Have  two  utter  equals  met: 
Leaves  and  fruits  on  every  tree, 
Fowls  and  fish  of  air  and  sea, 
9 


120  EQUALITY. 

Stars  on  high  with  all  their  host, 
Pebbles  from  a  kingdom's  coast; 
Search  them  all,  some  difference  still 
Clings  to  each  for  good  or  ill; 
Search  the  world — all  worlds  —  around. 
Perfect  twins  were  never  found; 
Babes  of  various  realm  and  race, 
Men  of  every  age  and  place, 
Gifts  of  God,  or  wise  denials. 
Pleasures,  sorrows,  triumphs,  trials, 
■•     All  things  differ  everywhere, — 
Never  two  can  sUxrt  quite  fair, — 
Never  two  could  keep  the  start 
In  soul  or  body,  mind  or  heart. 
While  the  shoitest  winter's  day 
To  its  morrow  gloom 'd  away! 

Would  then  Vanity,  and  Sloth, 
And  Disappointment,  scorning  both. 
And  Pride  and  Cleanness,  hand  in  hand 
With  Crime  and  low  Ambition  stand 
To  scheme  and  plot  a  wholesome  plan 
Utterly  to  ruin  Man, — 
Then  should  they  level  love  and  hate, 
And  grind  to  atoms  all  things  great, 
Corrupt  all  good,  befoul  all  fair, 
Make  gladness  weep,  and  hope  despair, 
And,  impotent  to  raise  the  dead. 
Kill  the  living  in  their  stead. 
By  working  out  the  poison'd  lie 
Your  sages  call  Equality.   . 

No!  thou  phantom  false  and  fair, 
BAinbow-castle  in  the  dr. 


EQUALITY.  121 

Fit  enough  for  fays  or  elves, 

But  not  for  mortals  like  ourselres, 

In  this  hive  of  human  kind, 

Where  some  can  see,  and  some  are  blind, 

Where  some  will  work  though  others  play, 

And  many  swear  while  many  pray. 

Where  disease  and  age  at  length 

Must  bend  and  bow  to  manhood's  strength, 

Where  every  one  of  God's  good  gifts 

The  favour'd  from  his  fellow  lifts, — 

Equal !  —  equal  ?  —  tush  :  the  word 

In  truer  letters  spells  absurd. 

Equal?  there  is  One  alone 

Reigns  Coequal  on  His  throne; 

Nor  can  any  creature  dare 

With  such  Essence  to  compare. 

All  things  else  through  change  and  chance. 

And  time  and  place  and  circumstance. 

And  partial  Providence  most  just. 

And  man's  'I  will,' and  GrOD's  'you  must,'— 

All  things,  differing  each  from  each, 

Vainly  still  their  lesson  teach. 

If  Equality  be  thus 

Possible  or  wise  for  us, 

Where  with  various  means  and  powers 

In  a  trial-world  like  ours 

We  must  work  as  best  we  may. 

And  leave  it  to  The  Judgment  Day 

To  declare  how  ill  or  well 

Earth's  advantages  may  tell : 

Then,  shall  equal  meed  be  given 

By  the  justice  of  High  Heaven : 

Then  shall  compensation  true 

Set  us  all  in  places  new : 


122  EQUALITY. 

And, —  how  many  counted  first 
There  shall  stand  the  worst  accurst  I 
And, —  how  many  here  so  poor, 
Lazarus  laid  at  Dives'  door. 
There,  instead  of  last  and  least, 
First  shall  sit  at  Life's  great  feast! 


FRATERNITY. 

Away,  away.  Suspicion ! 

And  hail,  thou  generous  heat; 
With  tears  of  just  contrition 

Let  me  wash  my  brother's  feeti 
For  I  have  sinn'd, —  how  often! 

While  Charity  stood  by 
This  stony  heart  to  soften. 

And  to  melt  this  frozen  eye! 

Yes, —  I  have  err'd,  like  others, 

By  coldness  and  constraint, 
Forgetting  we  are  brothers, 

The  sinner  as  the  saint, — 
All  children  of  one  Father, 

All  guilty  and  all  weak. 
And  bound  by  these  the  rather 

Every  wanderer  to  seek! 

Awake  then !  holy  yearning 

The  hearta  of  men  to  thrill,— 
Ascend !  sweet  incense  burning 

To  warm  the  human  will; 
0  let  us  dare  with  boldness 

To  burst  this  girdling  chain 
Of  common  social  coldness, 

And  to  love  as  babes  again! 


FRATERNITY.  12S 

In  frankness,  and  in  fairness, 

Go  forth  and  reap  the  earth, — 
Its  richness  and  its  rareness, 

Its  more  than  money's-worth; 
Go  forth,  and  win  from  others 

Their  honour  and  their  love, 
By  treating  them  as  brothers 

And  the  sons  of  GoD  above! 

For  in  that  brighter  Sequel 

To  which  our  beings  tend 
At  last  we  shall  bo  equal 

In  One  Kedeeming  Friend! 
And  He,  who  made  us  brothers. 

Our  Lord,  and  brother  too. 
Hath  gone  before  the  others 

To  prepare  for  them  and  you  I 

Thus  then  shall  heirs  of  heaven, 

But  not  the  slaves  of  sin, — 
Forgiving  and  forgiven 

This  holy  triad  win; 
Free, —  equal, — and  fraternal, 

In  God's  own  way  and  time. 
To  live  the  life  eternal, 

And  to  love  the  love  sublime  I 


Blflrtiii  Intlirr. 

Luther  Eleutheros!  thou  lion-heart, 

Call'd  by  a  name  predestined  to  be  Free, 

Nobly  thou  didst  the  Christian  warrior's  part,— 
Paul  and  Ignatius  fought  again  in  thee : 
My  glorious  namesake,  what  a  praise  to  me, 

By  nation,  name,  and  nature  too,  thou  art, 


124  MAETINLUTUER. 

Maxtin  Eleutheros!  my  Saxon  chief! 

I,  too,  would  scorn  to  bend  a  slavish  knee, 
Or  bate  one  tittle  of  my  firm  belief, 

Or  seem  some  other  than  I  boast  to  be  — 
No  human  master's  servant:  in  thy  strength, 
The  Rock  op  Ages,  is  my  spirit  strong; 
And  resolutely  will  I  lead  along, 

Like  thee,  for  truth,  and  good,  and  God  at  length. 


Cool  and  sweet  is  the  breath  of  the  mom, 
And  dew-beads  glitter  on  thistle  and  thorn; 
And  linnets  and  larks  are  beginning  to  trill 
Their  psalm  to  the  sun  just  over  the  hill. 
And  all  things  pleasant,  and  pure,  and  fair 
Bathe  in  the  balmy  morning  air. 

Hist !  the  turf  is  under  thy  feet. 
Over  it  steadily, —  sure  and  fleet! 
Steadily,  Wonder!  —  quietly  now; 
Why,  what  a  hot  little  fool  art  thou! 
Wild  and  wanton  !  —  it 's  very  unkind 
To  leave  poor  Gael  so  panting  behind;  — 

Ho  !  my  greyhound  !     Sobo !  —  a  hare  ! 

Good  dog:  after  her!  —  soft  and  fair; 

Off  does  she  fly,  and  away  does  he  bound, — 

Glorious !  how  we  qre  skimming  the  ground ! 

Heels  above  head, — over  she  goes! 

And  pussy  squeals  at  my  greyhound's  nose 


s  o  H  o .  126 

Home :  hark  back !  —  the  games  arc  done, 
Though  Cjesar's  self  has  barely  begun : 
Look !  let  him  change  the  spur  for  the  pen, 
To  hunt  and  to  harry  the  hearts  of  men, — 
Possibles  do,  and  impossibles  dare. 
And  gallop  in  spirit  everywhere ! 


EtDiBiting  (CjiarhrjiDiisii, 

"aftee  long  years." 
Dec.  12,  1848. 

A  SHADOW,  a  vapour,  a  tale  that  is  told,— 

Ah !  where  is  the  figure  so  true 
As  justly  to  picture  my  bygones  of  old 

Uprising  in  dreamy  review? 
Those  dim  recollections,  sepulchral  and  cold, 

The  ancient  obscured  by  the  new. 
As  over  these  hill-tops  are  mistily  roll'd 

Those  ghost-looking  columns  of  dew ! 

I  went  to  the  place  that  had  known  me  of  yore, 

To  see  its  familiar  facej 
And  mournfully  stood, — for  it  knew  me  no  more; 

All  strange  did  I  stand  in  that  place ! 
And  it  scem'd  as  if  Hades  had  render'd  its  dead 

When,  less  by  the  sight  than  the  sound,  • 
At  the  hint  of  a  voice,  in  a  snow-sprinkled  head 

Some  school-fellow's  features  I  found. 


BXYISITINO    0UARTERHOU8X. 

0  changes  in  feeling,  0  chances  of  life ! 

0  mercies,  and  perils,  and  fears ! 
"What  ages  of  trial,  and  travail,  and  strife 

Have  sped  since  those  holiday  years ! 
In  half-drowning  vision,  as  seen  in  a  glass, 

On  a  sudden  the  sorrows  and  joys 
Of  twenty  long  winters  all  hurriedly  pass, 

And,  look   for  once  more  we  are  boys! 

Yet  here,  like  the  remnant  of  some  gallant  crew 

Just  snatch'd  from  the  deep  in  the  dark. 
We  gaze  on  each  other,  a  storm-batter'd  few 

Adrift  on  a  perilous  bark  ! 
And  mournful  as  Life,  and  mysterious  as  Death, 

Our  commonplace  converse  is  heard. 
For  we  feel  as  we  speak  that  we  live  in  a  breach, 

And  haply  might  die  in  a  word ! 

And  feelings  are  fickle, — and  riches  have  wings, 

And  nothing  is  steady  or  sure, 
And  even  affections  are  changeable  things, 

And  —  where  can  a  heart  be  secure? 
Ah !  clouded  and  dreary  and  solemn  and  still. 

And  as  by  some  nightmare  opprest, — 
Come,  heart !  break  away  from  this  choke  and  this  chill. 

In  Gk)D  and  thyself  ever  blest ! 


THESISTEBS.  127 


€^  listers. 

A   KOMAtTNT,    FOR   JTUSIC. 

All-beauteous  Lady  Arabell 

Glanced  scornfully  aside, — 
Alas!  for  he  hath  loved  her  well, 

In  spite  of  all  her  pride; 
Yet  coldly  to  that  noble  heart 

In  all  its  glowing  youth, 
Away!  she  cried, — and  spum'd  aside 

Its  tenderness  and  truth. 

Away  !  —  and  at  her  feet  he  fell 

As  cold  and  white  as  stone ! 
And  heartless  Lady  Arabell 

Has  left  him  all  alone; 
Alone,  to  live?  alone,  to  die? 

Alone  ?  —  Yet  who  art  thou, — 
Some  guardian  angel  from  the  sky 

To  bless  and  aid  him  now? 

Ah  !  Florence  loves  young  Cecil  well, 

And  pines  this  many  a  day,— 
For  star-eyed  sister  Arabell 

Hath  won  his  heart  away, — 
Hath  won  it  all  by  treacherous  arts 

To  fling  it  all  aside, 
And  break  a  pair  of  loving  hearts 

For  triumph  and  for  pride ! 

Fair  Florence  with  hor  eyes  of  blue 
And  locks  of  golden  light; 

Dark  Arabell's  of  raven  hue 
With  flashiiig  orbs  of  tiight; 


1S8  THESISTERS. 

And  has  young  Cecil  chosen  well 
Between  that  sister  pair, 

The  proud  and  brilliant  Arabell 
Or  gentle  Florence  fair  ? 

O  bitter  mom !  0  blessed  morn ! 

For  lo,  he  turns  to  love 
No  more  that  raven  queen  of  scorn, 

But  this  sweet  sister  dove : 
In  spite  of  lustrous  Arabell 

And  all  her  envious  pride, 
Young  Cecil  loves  his  Florence  well, 

And  —  Florence  is  his  bride. 


Indomitable  merit 

Of  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind ! 
That  makes  a  man  inherit 

The  glories  of  his  kind, 
That  scatters  all  around  him 

Until  he  stands  sublime 
With  nothing  to  confound  him, 

The  Conqueror  of  Time, — 
0  mighty  Perseverance  ! 

0  Courage  stem  and  stout! 
That  wills  and  works  a  clearance 

Of  every  rabble  rout, — 
That  cannot  brook  denial 

And  scarce  allows  delay. 
But  wins  from  every  trial 

More  strength  for  every  day, — 


ENEBOY.  129 

Antagonistic  Power ! 

I  praise, — for  praise  I  can, — 
The  God,  the  place,  the  hour 

That  makes  a  man  a  Man, — 
The  GrOD  —  from  whom  all  greatness, 

The  place,  Old  England's  shore. 
The  hour,  an  hour  of  lateness 

(For  Time  shall  soon  be  o'er) 
The  Man, —  ay,  every  brother 

Of  Anglo-Saxon  race 
Who  owns  an  English  mother 

And  Freedom's  dwelling-place! 

I  feel,  I  feel  within  me 

That  courage  self-possess'd, — 
The  force,  that  yet  shall  win  me 

The  brightest  and  the  best, — 
The  stalwarth  English  daring 

That  steadily  steps  on, 
Unswerving  and  unsparing, 

Until  the  world  is  won, — 
The  boldness  and  the  quiet 

That  calmly  go  ahead. 
In  spite  of  wrath  and  riot, 

In  spite  of  quick  and  dead, — 
Hot  Energy  to  spur  me. 

Keen  Enterprise  to  guide, 
And  Conscience  to  upstir  me. 

And  Duty  by  my  side, 
And  Hope  before  me  singing 

Assurance  of  success, 
And  rapid  Action  springing 

At  once  to  nothing  less, 
And  all  the  mighty  movings 

That  wrestle  in  my  breast, 


ENERGY. 

The  longings  and  the  lovings, 
The  Spirit's  glad  unrest, 

That  scorns  excuse  to  tender 
Or  Fortune's  favour  ask, 

And  never  will  surrender 
Whatever  be  the  task ! 

I  cannot  wait  for  chances. 

For  luck  I  will  not  look; 
In  faith  my  spirit  glances 

At  Providence,  God's  book; 
And  there  discerning  truly 

That  right  is  might  at  length, 
I  dare  go  forward  duly 

In  quietness  and  strength. 
Unflinching  and  unfearing, 

The  flatterer  of  none, 
And  in  good  courage  wearing 

The  honours  I  have  won ! 
Let  circumstance  oppose  me, 

I  beat  it  to  my  will; 
And  if  the  flood  o'erflows  me, 

I  dive  and  stem  it  still; 
No  hindering  dull  Material 

Shall  conquer  or  control 
My  energies  ethereal 

My  gladiator  Soul ! 
I  will  contrive  occasion, 

Not  tamely  bide  my  time; 
No  Capture,  but  Creation 

Shall  make  my  sport  sublime; 
Let  lower  spirits  linger 

For  hint  and  beck  and  nod, 
I  always  see  the  finger 

Of  an  onward-urging  GodI 


E  N  E  E  a  Y .  181 

Not  selfish,  not  hard-hearted, 

Not  vain,  nor  deaf,  nor  blind, 
From  wisdom  not  departed, 

But  in  humbleness  of  mind, 
Still  shall  mine  independence 

Stand  manfully  alone, 
Nor  dance  a  dull  attendance 

At  any  mortal  throne; 
Disciple  of  no  teacher 

Except  the  One  in  Heaven, 
And  yielding  to  no  creature 

The  Reason  He  hath  given  I 
0  thus,  while  contemplation 

In  faith  beholds  above 
My  glorious  hope.  Salvation, 

Eternity  of  Love, 
And  while  a  Saxon  spirit 

Is  bubbling  from  my  heart 
To  strengthen  and  upstir  it 

To  play  a  giant's  part. 
No  hindrance,  nor  misfortune, 

No  man's  neglect,  nor  ill. 
Shall  bend  me  to  importune 

One  weak  indulgence  still, 
But  with  my  God  to  nerve  me 

My  soul  shall  overwhelm 
All  circumstance  to  serve  me 

In  my  Spiritual  Realm ! 


"NON     ANOLI     BED    ANQKLI." 

In  Illustration  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Map. 

Ho !  yc  swift  messengers  out  of  the  North, 
Mercy's  ambassadors, — haste  to  go  forth  ! 
Speedily  let  your  broad  sails  be  unfurl'd, 
Winging  your  errand  all  over  the  world, 
Wafting  your  message  of  peace  and  goodwill, 
Brotherhood,  godliness,  science,  and  skill ! 

Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  and  its  health, — 
Ye  are  its  gladness,  its  wisdom,  and  wealth, — 
Ye  are  its  glory !     0  Britain,  thy  sons, 
Thy  stout  Anglo-Saxons,  thy  resolute  ones. 
Ever  triumphant  on  every  shore, 
Are  only  triumphant  for  Good  evermore ! 

Ministers  bright  of  the  bounties  of  GoD, 

Where  is  the  land  by  these  angels  untrod  ? 

Tell  it  out,  Africa,  China,  and  Scinde, 

And  Isles  of  the  Sea,  and  the  uttermost  Inde, 

Tell  out  their  zeal,  and  their  grandeur  of  soul. 

From  the  sands  of  the  Line,  to  the  snows  of  the  Pole ! 

Tell  out  the  goodness,  the  greatness,  the  grace, 

That  follow  their  footsteps  in  every  place ! 

Tell  it  out,  thou,  the  first  cradle  of  Man, 

Teeming  with  millions,  serene  Ilindostan, — 

Tell  how  fair  commerce,  and  just-dealing  might, 

Have  blest  thee  with  peace,  and  adom'd  thee  with  light  I 

Boundless  Australia,  help  of  the  age. 

And  heirloom  of  hope  on  Futurity's  page, 

Lo!  thy  vast  continent,  silent  and  sad, 

With  the  song  of  the  Saxon  has  learnt  to  be  glad; 


NOISANGLISEDANGELI.  188 

Rejoicing  to  change  the  wild  waste  and  the  fen 

Into  wide-waving  harvests  and  cities  of  men  I  • 

Mighty  Columbia,  Star  of  the  "West, 

See,  'tis  a  world  by  the  Saxon  possest! 

Glorious  and  glad,  from  the  North  to  the  South, 

Your  millions  praise  God  with  an  Englishman's  mouth  I 

And  all  love  a  land  where  at  home  they  would  be, 

England,  old  England,  the  Home  of  the  Free ! 

Dotted  about  on  the  width  of  the  world, 
Her  beacon  is  blazing,  her  flag  is  unfurl'd; 
Not  a  shore,  not  a  sea,  not  a  deep  desert  wild, 
But  pays  its  mute  Komage  to  Energy's  child, — • 
Not  a  realm,  not  a  people,  or  kingdom,  or  clan, 
But  owns  him  the  chief  of  the  children  of  Man ! 

The  foaming  Atlantic  hath  render'd  its  isles. 

And  the  dark  Caribbean  its  tropical  smiles. 

And  Southern  Pacific  those  many-hued  flowers, 

And  Europe's  Mid-Ocean  these  temples  and  towers, — 

Their  tribute  the  seas  of  Old  India  bring, 

And  Borneo  is  proud  of  her  new  British  King! 

Yes!  for  dear  Britain,  the  Mother  of  Men, 
Rules  all,  under  God,  by  the  sword  and  the  pen : 
She  is  the  Delphi,  the  heart  of  the  earth, 
The  rock-rushing  spring  of  humanity's  worth  j 
And,  if  two  hemispheres  prosper,  the  cause 
Lies  in  old  England's  Religion  and  Laws! 

Yes !  for  her  realm  is  the  Goshen  of  light  j 
The  wings  of  these  Angels  have  scattcr'd  the  night! 
Duteous  and  daring,  as  beauteous  and  strong, 
They  are  helpers  of  Right,  and  avengers  of  Wrong, 
Fair  in  their  souls  as  their  eyes  and  their  locks. 
Stout  in  their  hearts  as  their  oaks  and  their  rocks! 


COUNTRY    LIKE. 


Cnuntrii  tilt    I. 

Think  not  thou  that  fields  and  flowers. 
Copses  and  Arcadian  bowers, 

Grow  the  crop  of  Peace :  — 
In  this  model  life  of  ours 

Worries  seldom  cease! 

Think  not  Envy,  Hatred,  Malice 
Seethe  alone  in  town  and  palace; 

For  on  Eden  first, 
Pour'd  from  evil's  caldron-chalice, 

Those  hot  geysers  burst! 

Though  the  scene  be  sweet  and  smiling, 
And  the  silence  most  beguilingj 

And  so  pure  the  air, — 
Man,  his  paradise  defiling, 

Pours  a  poison  there ! 

Look  at  yonder  simple  village, 
With  its  church  and  peaceful  tillage, 

Seemingly  so  blest;  — 
Mutual  hate  and  mutual  pillage 

Truly  tell  the  rest! 

With  the  tongue's  destroying  sabre. 
Neighbour  battles  against  neighbour, 

Whilst  each  other's  glance 
Tyranny  and  servile  Labour 

Scowling  watch  askance! 


COUNTRY    LIPE.  186 

Wealth,  well  fawn'd  on,  and — well-Iiated; 

"Want, — with  brutal  malice  mated;  ^ 

And,  to  teach  the  twain. 
Shallow  priestcraft,  self-inflated. 

Dreary,  dull,  and  vain! 

Ay,  Charles  Lamb,  the  wise  and  witty, 
Gentle  lover  of  the  city, 

Sensibly  he  spoke, 
When  he  dealt  his  pungent  pity 

To  us  country  folk : 

All  for  arson  insecurely. 

All  for  slander  little  purely,  « 

Vext  with  petty  strife, — 
Let  no  silly  mortal  surely 

Covet  country  life. 

n. 

Stop!  —  malign  not  country  pleasure; 
For  there  is  unminted  treasure 

In  its  quiet  calm; 
Li  its  garden-loving  leisure 

Gilead's  very  balm! 

Li  its  duties,  peaoe-bestowing, 
La  its  beauties,  overflowing 

All  the  dewy  ground, 
Li  its  mute  religion,  glowing 

Everywhere  around: 

In  its  unobtrusive  sweetness, 

In  its  purity,  and  meetness 

For  contented  minds, 

And  the  beautiful  completeness 

Man  in  Nature  finds. 
10 


186  COUNTRTLIFE. 

Yes, — it  is  no  fault  of  Nature's, 
*  If  the  vice  of  fallen  creatures 

^  Spots  her  with  a  curse; 

Man  in  towns  hath  viler  features, 
And  his  guilt  is  worse. 
• 

Troubles,  cares,  and  self-denials, 
These  are  no  such  special  vials 

Pour'd  on  fields  and  flowers; 
But  there  always  must  be  trials 

In  this  world  of  ours. 


# 


Country  life, — let  us  confess  it, — 
Man  will  little  help  to  bless  it, 

Yet,  for  gladness  there. 
We  may  readily  possess  it 

In  its  native  air. 

Kides  and  rambles,  sports  and  farming. 
Home,  the  heart  for  ever  warming. 

Books,  and  friends,  and  ease, — 
Life  must  after  all  be  charming. 

Full  of  joys  like  these. 

Yes,  however  little  gaily. 

And  —  for  man,  however  frailly 

Check'd  with  sin  and  strife, — 
Wisdom  rests  contented  daily 

With  a  country  life. 


FONSPABNASSJ.  187 


THE  SOLACE  OF  SONG, 

Ever  babbling,  ever  bubbling, 

Bright  as  light,  and  calmly  clear,       ^ 
Cure  for  every  trial  troubling, 
Solace  ever  new  and  near, 

Fons  Pamassi !  free  and  flowing, 
Fons  Pamassi !  glad  and  glowing, 
.  Rarefied  creative  pleasure ! 

0  they  lie  who  say  that  Song 
Is  a  merely  graceful  measure. 
Just  a  luxury  of  leisure, 

Not  an  anthem  sweet  and  strong 
Rich  in  spiritual  treasure 

That  to  Seraphs  might  belong, — 
Not  a  tender  consolation 

All  the  cares  of  life  among, 
Not  the  balm  of  broad  creation 

In  this  maze  of  right  and  wrong, — 
Not  the  secret  soul's  distilling. 
Every  nerve  and  fibre  filling 
With  intense  ecstatic  thrilling, — 

Evoe  I  Fons  Pamassi, 
Fons  ebrie  Pamassi! 

Ah !  thou  fairy  fount  of  sweetness, 

Well  I  wot  how  dear  thou  art 
In  thy  purity  and  mectness 
To  my  hot  and  thirsty  heart, 
When,  with  sympathetic  fleetness, 

I  have  raced  from  thought  to  thought, 
And,  array 'd  in  maiden  neatness. 
By  her  natural  taste  well  taught, 


%9S  FONSPARNASSI. 

Thy  young  Naiad,  thy  Pieria, 
My  melodious  Egeria, 
"Wlnsomely  finds  out  my  fancies 

Frank  as  Sappho,  as  unsought, — 
And  with  innocent  wife-like  glances 
Close  beside  my  spirit  dances. 
As  a  sister  Ariel  ought, — 
Tripping  at  her  wanton  will, 
With  unpremeditated  skill, 
Like  a  gushing  mountain  rill. 
Or  a  bright  Bacchante  reeling 
Through  the  flights  of  thought  and  feeling, 
Half  concealing,  half  revealing 
Whatsoe'er  of  Spirit's  fire, 
Beauty  kindling  with  desire, 
Can  be  caught  in  Word's  attire ! 

Evoe!  Fons  Parnassil 
Fons  ebrie  Pamassi  I 


It.  Bcrtlia's. 

Near  Guildford,  Surrey,  1838. 

Holt  precinct,  mount  of  God, 

Where  saints  have  bled,  and  pilgrims  trod, 

Martyr's  hill  —  thy  nobler  name. 

Martyr's  hill — thy  fairer  fame 

Than  as  call'd  of  her,  whose  heart 

Chose  but  late  the  better  part, — 

Unto  thee  my  praise  I  bring. 

Thee  my  soul  delights  to  sing. 


sr.  Martha's.  IMki 

Lo,  the  glorious  landscape  round ! 
Tread  we  not  enchanted  ground? 
From  this  bold  and  breezy  height 
The  charm'd  eye  sends  its  eagle  flight 
O'er  the  panoramic  scene, 
Undulating,  rich,  and  green; 
And  with  various  pleasure  roves 
From  hill  and  dale,  to  fields  and  groves, 
Till  the  prospect  mingling  grey 
With  the  horizon  fades  away, 
Shutting  in  the  distant  view 
By  fainter  lines  of  glimmering  blue. 

Start  we  from  the  warm  South-East  j 
Spread  the  fine  pictorial  feast: 
There  the  landmark  tower  of  Leith 
Sentinels  its  purple  heath; 
Nearer,  Holmbury's  moated  hill, 
Highden-ball,  and  Ewhurst  mill. 
Dewy  Hascomb's  fir-fringed  knoll. 
Hind-head,  and  the  Devil's-Bowl, 
With  peeps  of  far  South-downs  between 
Seaward  closing  up  the  scene. 

Like  a  thunder-cloud,  beneath 

Stretches  drear  the  broad  Blackheath : 

Scatter'd  coins  have  seal'd  the  sod 

A  classic  site  that  Rome  has  trod,  • 

Field  of  many  a  desperate  strife 

For  conquest,  liberty,  or  life. 

When  the  legion's  sullen  tramp 

Echoed  oft  from  Farley-camp, 

And  some  C;o~'ir's  ruthless  sword 

Reap'd  the  r  .  '.     barbarian  horde, 

Britons,  patri  it.s,  free  brave  men, 

But  unskill'd  to  conquer — then. 


ST.     MARTHAS. 

Turn  we  to  this  woodland  shade, 
Beyond  the  Hanger's  hazel  glade : 
Ah!  'tis  sad,  though  little  strange. 
That  times,  and  things,  and  men  should  change; 
Sad,  though  little  strange  to  see 
Albury,  such  sad  change  in  thee. 
Thou  wert  in  my  infant  dreams, 
My  childish  pranks,  my  school-day  schemes; 
My  heart's  young  home,  my  pride  and  praise; 
Playground  of  ray  boyish  days; 
Link'd  with  learning,  goodness,  truth, 
To  the  story  of  my  youth; 
Mixt  with  hope's  romantic  plan, 
And  loved, —  now  years  have  made  me  man. 
But,  the  brightness  of  thy  praise 
Perish'd  with  those  early  days, — 
Thy  sweet  prime,  too  fair  to  last. 
Spring-like  came,  and  smiled,  and  past; 
And  I  note,  adown  the  Vale, 
Thy  good-angel  wandering  pale. 
With  folded  wing  and  tearful  eye 
Mourning  for  the  days  gone  by; 
Now,  like  some  white  wounded  deer 
Hiding  in  the  greenwood  here; 
Now,  beside  that  old  church,  faint 
Leaning,  like  a  dying  saint. 

Away:  regard  we  yet  again 
Nature's  beauty, —  and  her  bane: 
Alas !  that  man  should  e'er  intrude 
Where  all  but  he  are  glad  and  good,— 
Alas,  for  yonder  fairy  glen, 
Nature's  Eden,  vext  with  men ! 
Mammon,  from  those  long  white  mills 
With  foggy  steam  the  prospect  fills; 


ST.    Martha's.  141 

Chimneys  red  with  sulphurous  smoke 

Blight  these  hanging  groves  of  oak; 

And  sylvan  Quiet's  gentle  scenes 

List  —  to  the  clatter  of  machines. 

Yet  more,  in  yonder  rural  dell, 

Where  sylphs  and  feuns  might  love  to  dwell, 

Among  those  alders,  by  the  stream 

Stealing  on  with  silver  gleam, 

Blacken'd  huts,  set  wide  apart. 

Grind  their  dark  grain  for  murder's  mart, 

Or,  bursting  with  explosive  might, 

Bage,  and  roar,  and  blast,  and  blight. 

Enough,  enough  of  toilsome  Art; 
Fresh  sweet  Nature  woos  thy  heart: 
Gaze  then  on  this  western  plain, 
A  woody,  various,  rich  champaign; 
Each  in  its  hollow  nestling  down. 
The  farm,  the  village,  or  the  town  ; 
Field  on  field,  and  grove  on  grove, 
Wavelike,  far  as  eye  can  rove. 
Till  intersecting  lines  of  hill 
The  blue  horizon  faintly  fill. 

And,  while  thy  spirit  praises  Earth, 
Its  precious  gifts,  its  wealth  and  worth, 
Forget  not  thou  this  glorious  Sky, 
Oh !  lift  thine  eyes,  thy  heart  on  high ; 
Forget  not  Him,  whose  mercy  gave 
All  the  good  we  hope,  or  have; 
Him,  whose  Presence,  far  and  near, 
Man's  best  wisdom  learns  to  fear 
Where  above  the  green  glad  world 
Heaven's  banners  float  unfurl'd. 
Gorgeous  in  each  mighty  fold 
Bathed  in  black,  or  fringed  with  gold; 


ST.  Martha's. 

Or,  as  clouds  of  fleecy  white 
Sail  in  seas  of  azure  light; 
Or,  aa  streamers  hurrying  by 
Tell  of  tempests  in  the  Sky; 
Or,  like  snow-clad  mountains,  stand 
Giant  wardens  of  the  Land. 

Earthward  once  again;  the  North  I 
Draw  its  good,  its  evil  forth: 
Mile  beyond  mile  of  waving  field, 
Rare  to  see,  and  rich  to  yield; 
The  frequent  village  round  its  spire; 
The  snug  domain  of  rural  squire; 
Yon  dusky  track  of  Waste  and  Moss; 
That  iron  road-way  drawn  across; 
Windsor,  throned  o'er  half  the  land; 
And  gambling  Epsom's  far-famed  stand; 
While  the  dim  distance  in  a  shroud 
Is  wrapp'd  by  London's  smoky  cloud. 

Near  us,  Guildford's  ancient  town 

Between  the  hills  is  hiding  down; 

Decent  Guildford,  clean  and  steep. 

Ranged  about  its  castle-keep. 

Relic  of  departed  power. 

Grey  and  crumbling  square  old  tower. 

Like  some  warder  at  his  post 

Honest  Booker's  lofty  boast, 

Fine  and  feudal,  shames  outright 

Puny's  telegraphic  height, 

While  it  overtops  with  pride 

All  the  vassal  scene  beside. 

And,  above  that  verdant  swell, 

Sainted  Catherine's  Gothic  cell. 


ST.    maetua's.  143 

Westward  thence,  a  narrow  track, 
Stretches  far  the  bare  Ilog's-back : 
Ridging  up,  with  hilly  sides, 
Lo,  the  bristling  Boar  dindes 
Right  and  left  a  kindred  scene, 
Purple  moors  and  meadows  green,- 
Or  those  seeming-vineyards  wide, 
Famham's  wealth,  and  Surrey's  pride. 

Forth  from  Merroe's  happy  plain 
And  noble  Clandon's  rich  domain, 
Newland's  heights,  and  Coombe  beyond, 
And  nutty  Sherbourne's  crystal  pond, 
Eastward  to  the  landscape's  end 
The  sloping  chalky  Downs  extend. 
Primal  still,  by  man  untamed. 
Fresh,  unbounded,  unreclaim'd: 
Now  a  lawn  of  herbage  sweet 
Smooth  as  velvet  to  the  feet, 
Now  a  jungle,  matted  dense, 
A  wilderness  of  briar-fence; 
Here,  an  earthwork,  fosse  and  mound; 
There,  a  race-course  curving  round; 
Hollow'd  pits,  where  in  old  times 
Bad  marauders  hid  their  crimes: 
Sad  sepulchral  groves  of  yew 
Solemn  ranged  in  order  due. 
Seeming  of  primeval  birth,' 
Solid  as  the  ribs  of  earth, 
Where  white  Druids,  years  of  yore, 
Roam'd  those  mystic  circles  o'er. 
Or  calmly  kneeling  on  the  sod 
Wisely  worshipped  Nature's  QOD. 


144  ST.  Martha's. 

Yes,  modern;  would  thy  pride  condemn, 

Or  shall  thy  wisdom  pity  them? 

They  built  no  prisons  for  —  the  poor, 

Freely  fed  from  door  to  door; 

Their  foolish  mercy  did  not  strive 

To  give  the  least  that  keeps  alive, 

Their  charity  sought  not  to  know 

How  little  poor  men  need  below. 

But  thou, —  what  means  yon  human  pound, 

Brick'd  and  barr'd,  and  well  wall'd  round? 

But  that  to  thy  shame  and  scorn 

Penal  poverty  may  mourn 

How  ill-christen'd  liberals  prove 

Words  by  deeds,  and  faith  by  love: 

For  here,  unpitied,  spum'd,  alone. 

The  British  slave  must  grind  and  groan, 

Tom  from  children,  friends,  and  wife, 

And  buried  in  the  midst  of  life. 

0  Man,  thy  love  is  chill  and  small; 

0  Nature,  thou  art  kind  to  all : 

This  full  wide  theatre  of  views 

Bathed  in  Autumn's  rainbow  hues 

Recreates  my  freshen'd  sight 

Soft  with  shade,  and  rich  with  light. 

And,  saved  from  thoughts  of  pride  and  pel^ 

Restores  me  to  my  cheerful  self. 

Let  then  a  lateborn  son  of  Time 
Shadow  forth  the  Past  sublime. 
And  while,  the  greensward  laid  along. 
He  weaves  his  meditative  song. 
Tell  what  various  tribes  have  trod 
With  various  hopes  this  ancient  God. 


ST.    Martha's.  145 

The  painted  Briton,  long  of  yore, 
Hunting  down  the  wolf  or  boarj 
The  Roman  watcher,  posted  here 

Leaning  on  his  iron  spear ;  ' 

The  fair-hair'd  Angle,  piling  high 
Beacon-fires  against  the  skyj 
With  vulture-eyes  the  hungry  Dane 
.Gloating  o'er  the  fertile  plain; 
Patriot  Saxons,  who  withstood 
The  Norman,  conquering  for  goodj 
Monks,  to  bless  with  book  and  bell; 
Crusaders,  bidding  all  farewell ; 
Footsore  Pilgrims,  hither  come 
Midway  from  St.  Becket's  tomb; 
Round-heads,  chaunting  rebel  prayers  j 
Gay  devoted  Cavaliers; 
Rustics,  on  the  Sabbath-day 
Duly  toiling  up  to  pray; 
Mourners,  weeping  round  the  bier 
Brought  for  humble  buriaj  here; 
And  thousands,  more,  in  dresses  quaint, 
Than  tongue  can  tell,  or  pencil  paint, 
Have  laugh'd,  or  wept,  or  fought  their  fill, 
Or  lived,  or  died,  on  Martyrs'  Hill. 

Martyrs'  Hill !  —  before  my  mind 
Rise  the  triumphs  of  Mankind; 
Martyrs'  hill !  —  and  to  my  thought 
Back  the  crimes  of  men  are  brought: 
Yea;-- -for  on  this  sacred  sod 
Doubtless  perish'd  saints  of  GoD, 
And  Elijah's  chariot  came 
Mingling  with  the  martyrs'  flame. 
To  bear  them  from  that  awestruck  crowd 
In  robes  of  light,  on  thrones  of  cloud. 


146  ST.    Martha's. 

Then,  the  seed  of  holy  blood 
Gave  its  hundredfold  of  good; 
Barbarians  heard,  and  thought,  and  felt, 
Glow'd,  admired,  and  mourn'd,  and  kueltj 
Their  very  murderers  came  in  fear 
To  bless  the  sainted  victims  here; 
Penitent,  with  zealous  haste 
Aloft  the  rustic  temple  placed, 
Keyless  arches,  rough  and  round, 
Spanning  high  the  blood-stain 'd  ground, 
Of  iron-sandstone  rudely  built. 
Memorial  of  their  grief — and  guilt. 

Thereafter,  Newark's  princely  priest 

Added  all  this  Gothic  East, — 

The  modest  choir  and  transepts  twain, 

Fitting  well  the  Christian  fane, 

Windows,  deck'd  in  colours  rich, 

The  pointed  arch  and  florid  niche, — 

Contrast  to  yon  Saxon  nave 

That  simply  mark'd  the  martyr's  grave. 

Swept  along  fate's  rolling  tide. 

Generations  lived,  and  died. 

Thronging  in  succession  there 

With  the  sacrifice  of  prayer  : 

And  a  Martha's  dubious  name 

Half  eclipsed  that  better  fame, 

Symbol  of  degenerate  years 

When  earth  usurps  our  hopes  and  feaiv- 

Ages  came,  and  ages  past; 

Till  the  flood  of  Time  at  last 

Wafted  on  the  modern  race 

Loving  gain,  and  hating  grace: 

So  we  draw  to  thy  decay 

Silent  ruin  of  to-day. 


ST.   MARTHA'S.  iM 

An  evil  day  of  evil  deeds, 
Selfish  sects  and  wrangling  creeds, 
When  faith  is  dead,  and  zeal  grown  cold, 
And  churches  can  be  bought  and  sold. 
Or  left  a  prey  to  rot  and  rain. 
For  lack  of  grace,  and  lust  of  gain. 

Ruin,  I  have  loved  thee  long, 
And  owed  for  years  this  humble  song; 
While  I  pay  the  grateful  debt,  » 

Hear  me  one  petition  yet. 
When  in  God's  good  time  and  way 
I  wake  upon  my  dying  day, 
Should  I  still  beneath  thee  dwell, 
As  my  spirit  sighs  farewell. 
Let  the  shadows  from  thy  wall 
Be  my  hallow'd  funeral  pallj 
Let  no  citjr's  close  church-yard 
Steal  from  thee  thy  native  bard; 
But  where  now  I  careless  lie 
Make  me  welcome  when  I  die : 
On  this  thyme-enamell'd  height 
Let  me  bid  the  world  good-night; 
Sacred  to  my  memory  be 
All  the  scene  that  circles  thee; 
And  plant  o'er  me,  in  goodwill, 
A  plain  stone  cross  on  Martyrs'  HilL 


liB  APPEAL. 

1840. 

Shame  od  thee,  Christian,  cold  and  covetous  one  I 
The  laws  (I  praise  them  not  for  this)  declare 
That  ancient,  loved,  deserted  house  of  prayer 
As  money's  worth  a  layman  landlord's  own. 
^  Then  use  it  as  thine  own;  thy  mansion  there 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  this  ruinous  church 
Stands  new  and  decorate;  thine  every  shed 
And  barn  is  neat  and  proper;  I  might  search 

Thy  comfortable  farms,  and  well  despair 
Of  finding  dangerous  ruin  overhead. 
And  damp  unwholesome  mildew  on  the  walls; 

Arouse  thy  better  self, —  restore  it;  see, 
Through  thy  neglect  the  holy  fabric  falls ! 

Fear,  lest  that  crushing  guilt  should  fall  on  thee. 


A.  D.  1849. 

Ruin  J  —  Ruin  now  no  more, 

To  the  Lord  we  thus  restore 

Thine  old  glories,  holy  place, 

Consecrate  again  to  grace : 

Thine  old  glories  shine  again, 

Sculptured  stone,  and  jewell'd  pane; 

As  a  cross  upon  the  hill. 

Nave,  quire,  and  aisles  are  mapp'd  out  still, 

And  thy  Norman  tower  on  high 

Boldly  stands  against  the  sky. 


REBUILT.  149 


Thanks  to  Him  who  blesseth  us 
That  the  Body  riseth  thus, — 
Thanks  to  Him  !  —  yet  more  we  need 
A  resurrection  rare  indeed, 
In  this,  and  us,  the  Spirit-part 
Flaming  with  a  martyr's  heart; 
In  old  St.  Martha's,  thus  made  new, 
Religion's  fervour,  pure  and  true : 
Send,  0  send  that  quickening  might, 
God  of  love,  and  life,  and  light ! 


Ejtnnsnrfltflr. 

May  15,  1850. 

The  dews  of  Hermon  rest  upon  thee  now, 
Fair  saint  and  martyr !  and  yet  once  again 
Faith,  hope  and  charity,  like  gracious  rain, 

Fall  on  thy  consecrated  virgin  brow : 

For  lo !  the  Lord  is  with  thee,  as  of  yore. 

And  dwelleth  in  these  hallow'd  walls  once  more, — 

Bather, —  hath  never  left  them;  for  He  heard 

When  in  thy  desolate  gates  our  earnest  vow 

Rose  from  this  ruin'd  altar  to  His  throne, — 
And  resolutely  were  thy  children  stirr'd 

Not  in  thy  sad  estate,  forlorn  and  lone. 

To  leave  thee  prayerlcss, —  but  to  win  The  Word, 

The  living  word  and  sacraments  of  grace 

Back  to  the  echoes  of  this  Holy  Place. 


160  SONNET,    FOR    ST.    ANN's,    ALDERNET. 

&nmi,  for  It.  5lnn'0,  5llhrnfi[, 

Consecrated,  August  21,  1850. 

Arise,  0  Lord,  into  thy  resting-place, 

Thou,  and  thy  strength !     Be  with  thy  servants  here,- 
To  bless  their  work  in  faithfulness  come  near, — 
For  thine  is  all  the  glory,  all  the  grace  : 

Add  then  Thy  Presence,  and  in  spirit  appear 
To  consecrate  this  House !     Not  unto  us. 

But  thanks  be  giv'n  to  Thee,  that,  (as  a  bride, 

Apparell'd  well  to  meet  her  coming  Lord 
In  virgin  garments  meekly  purified,) 
Waiteth  for  heavenly  benediction  thus 

"St.  Ann's  of  Alderney,"  to  heav'n  restored; 
0  may  that  blessing  on  her  sacred  brow 

Like  Aaron's  holy  oil  of  joy  be  pour'd 
Down  to  her  beauteous  feet  in  fulness  Now  I 


Shalford,  October  29,  1847. 

Like  some  fair  Nun,  the  pious  and  the  chaste, 
Shalford,  thy  new-born  temple  stands  serene, 

Modestly  deck'd  in  pure  old  English  taste. 
The  village  beauty  of  thy  tranquil  scene; 

And  we  to-day  have  made  religious  haste 


ACONSECRATION.  161 

To  see  thee  wedded  to  thy  heavenly  Spouse, 

Kneeling  in  unison  of  praise  and  pray'r 
To  help  the  offering  of  thy  maiden  vows: 

Hark !  what  a  thrilling  utterance  is  there, 
"Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  gates," — 

As  God's  high  priest  with  apostolic  care 
To  Him  this  tent  of  glory  consecrates : 

Good  work !  to  be  remember'd  for  all  time, 

The  seed  of  mercies  endless  and  sublime. 

"Come  in,  thou  King  of  Glory,"  yea,  come  in, 

Rest  here  awhile,  great  Conqueror  for  good ! 
Bless  thou  this  font  to  cleanse  from  Adam's  sin, 

Spread  thou  this  table  with  celestial  food ! 

And,  kindled  by  Thy  grace  to  gratitude, 
May  thousands  here  eternal  treasures  win. 

As,  hither  led,  from  time  to  time  with  joy 
They  seek  their  Father :  lo !  before  mine  eyes 
Visions  and  promises  of  good  arise, — 

The  tender  babe  baptized,  the  stripling  boy 
Confirm'd  for  godliness,  the  maid  and  youth 
Wedded  in  love,  the  man  mature  made  wise. 

The  elder  taught  in  righteousness  and  truth, 
And  each  an  heir  of  life  before  he  dies! 


11 


^  C^cuBanb  XlntB,  t\u 


1845. 


"A  LITTLE  more  sleep,  a  little  more  slumber, 

A  little  more  folding  the  hands  to  sleep," 
For  quick-footed  dreams,  without  order  or  number, 

Over  my  mind  are  beginning  to  creep, — 
Rare  is  the  happiness  thus  to  be  raptured 

By  your  wild  whispers,  my  Fanciful  train, 
And,  like  a  linnet,  be  carelessly  captured 

In  the  soft  nets  of  my  beautiful  brain  ! 

Touch  not  these  curtains !  —  your  hand  will  be  tearing 

Delicate  tissues  of  thoughts  and  of  things ;  — 
Call  me  not!  —  your  cruel  voice  will  be  scaring 

Flocks  of  young  visions  on  gossamer  wings : 
Leave  me,  0  leave  me, —  for  in  your  rude  presence 

Nothing  of  all  my  bright  world  can  remain, — 
Thou  art  a  blight  to  this  garden  of  pleasance. 

Thou  art  a  blot  on  my  beautiful  brain ! 

Cease  your  dull  lecture  on  cares  and  employment. 
Let  me  forget  awhile  trouble  and  strife. 

Leave  me  to  peace, —  let  me  husband  enjoyment, — 
This  is  the  heart  and  the  marrow  of  life. ! 

(152) 


SLOTH,  168 

For  to  my  feeling  the  choicest  of  pleasures 

Is  to  lie  thus,  without  peril  or  pain, 
Lazily  listening  the  musical  measures 

Of  the  sweet  voice  in  my  beautiful  brain  ! 

Hush, —  for  the  halo  of  calmness  is  spreading 

Over  my  spirit  as  mild  as  a  dove; 
Hush, —  for  the  angel  of  comfort  is  shedding 

Over  my  body  his  vial  of  love; 
Hush, —  for  new  slumbers  are  over  me  stealing, 

Thus  would  I  court  them  again  and  again, 
Hush, —  for  my  hcsirt  is  intoxicate, —  reeling 

In  the  swift  waltz  of  my  beautiful  brain! 


lattiflitn. 

Open  the  casement,  and  up  with  the  Sun  I 

His  gallant  journey  is  just  begun; 

Over  the  hills  his  chariot  is  roll'd, 

Banner'd  with  glory,  and  burnish'd  with  gold,— 

Over  the  hills  he  comes  sublime. 

Bridegroom  of  Earth,  and  brother  of  Time  I 

Day  hath  broken,  joyous  and  fair; 
Fragrant  and  fresh  is  the  morning  air, — 
Beauteous  and  bright  those  orient  hues, 
Balmy  and  sweet  these  early  dews; 
0,  there  is  health,  atid  wealth,  and  bliss 
In  dawning  Nature's  motherly  kiss ! 

Lo,  the  wondering  world  awakes, 

With  its  rosy-tipp'd  mountains  and  gleaming  lakes, 


IM  ACTIVITY. 

With  ita  fields  and  cities,  deserts  and  trees, 
Its  calm  old  clififs,  and  its  sounding  seas, 
In  all  their  gratitude  blessing  Him 
,Who  dwelleth  between  the  Cherubim  1 

Break  away  boldly  from  Sleep's  leaden  chain; 

Seek  not  to  forge  that  fetter  again; 

Rather  with  vigour  and  resolute  nerve, 

Up,  up,  to  bless  man,  and  thy  Master  to  serve, 

Thankful,  and  hopeful,  and  happy  to  raise 

The  offering  of  prayer,  and  the  incense  of  praise  1 

Gird  thee,  and  do  thy  watching  well, 

Duty's  Christian  sentinel ! 

Sloth  and  Slumber  never  had  part 

In  the  warrior's  will,  or  the  patriot's  heart; 

Soldier  of  God  on  an  enemy's  shore ! 

Slumber  and  sloth  thrall  thee  no  more. 


How  gladly  would  I  wander  through  some  strange  and  savage  land, 

The  lasso  at  my  saddle-bow,  the  rifle  in  my  hand, 

A  leash  of  gallant  mastiffs  bounding  by  my  side, 

And,  for  a  friend  to  love,  the  noble  horse  on  which  I  ride  I 

Alone,  alone  —  yet  not  alone,  for  GoD  is  with  me  there, 
The  tender  hand  of  Providence  shall  guide  me  everywhere. 
While  happy  thoughts  and  holy  hopes,  as  spirits  calm  and  mild 
Shall  fan  with  their  sweet  wings  the  hermit-hunter  of  the  wild ! 

Without  a  guide, — yet  guided  well, — young,  buoyant,  fresh,  and 

free. 
Without  a  road, — yet  all  the  land  a  highway  unto  me, 
Without  a  care,  without  a  fear,  without  a  grief  or  pain^ 
Exultingly  I  thread  the  woods,  or  gallop  o'er  the  plain ! 


ADVENTURE.  165 

Or,  brushing  tlirough  the  copse,  from  his  leafy  home  I  start 

The  stately  elk,  or  tusky  boar,  the  bison,  or  the  hart, 

And  then, —  with  efger  spur,  to  scour,  away,  away. 

Nor  stop, — until  my  dogs  have  brought  the  glorious  brute  to  bay ! 

Or,  if  the  gang  of  hungry  wolves  come  yelling  on  my  track, 
I  make  my  ready  rifle  speak,  and  scare  the  cowards  back; 
Or,  if  the  lurking  leopard's  eyes  among  the  branches  shine, 
A  touch  upon  the  trigger  —  and  his  spotted  skin  is  mine ! 

And  then  the  hunter's  savoury  fare  at  tranquil  eventide, — 
The  dappled  deer  I  shot  to-day  upon  the  green  hill-side; 
My  feasted  hounds  are  slumbering  round  beside  the  watercourse, 
And  plenty  of  sweet  prairie-grass  for  thee,  my  noble  horse. 

Hist !  hist !  I  heard  some  prowler  snarling  in  the  wood ; 
£  seized  my  knife  and  trusty  gun,  and  face  to  face  we  stood! 
The  Grizzly  Bear  came  rushing  on, — and,  as  he  rush'd,  he  fell! 
Hie  at  him,  dogs  I  my  rifle  has  done  its  duty  well ! 

Hie  at  him,  dogs !  one  bullet  cannot  kill  a  foe  so  grim ; 
The  God  of  battles  nerve  a  Man  to  grapple  now  with  him, — 
And  straight  between  his  hugging  arms  I  plunge  my  whetted  knife, 
Ha  —  ha!  it  splits  his  iron  heart,  and  drinks  the  ruddy  life! 

Frantic  struggles  —  welling  blood  —  the  strife  is  almost  o'er, — 
The  shaggy  monster,  feebly  panting,  wallows  in  his  gore, — 
Here,  lap  it  hot,  my  gallant  hounds, —  the  blood  of  foes  is  sweet ; 
Here,  gild  withal  your  dewlapp'd  throats,  and  wash  your  brawny 
feet! 

So,  shall  we  beard  those  tyrants  in  their  dens  another  day. 
Nor  tamely  wait,  with  slavish  fear,  their  coming  in  the  way; 
And  pleasant   thoughts  of  peace   and  home  shall  fill  our  dreams 

to-night. 
For  lo,  the  God  of  battles  has  help'd  us  in  the  fight ! 


HI  THE    BONO    OF    SIXTEEN. 


€^t  long  nf  liite. 

Who  shall  guess  what  I  may  be? 

Who  can  tell  my  fortune  to  me? 

For,  bravest  and  brightest  that  ever  was  sung 

May  be  —  and  shall  be  —  the  lot  of  the  young  I 

Hope,  with  her  prizes  and  victories  won, 
Shines  in  the  blaze  of  my  morning  sun, 
Conquering  Hope,  with  golden  ray. 
Blessing  my  landscape  far  away; 

All  my  meadows  and  hills  are  giceu, 
And  rippling  waters  glance  between, — 
All  my  skies  are  rosy  bright. 
Laughing  in  triumph  at  yester-night : 

My  heart,  ray  heart  within  me  swells. 
Panting,  and  stirring  its  hundred  wells;  — 
For  youth  is  a  noble  seed,  that  springs 
Into  the  flower  of  heroes  and  kings! 

Rich  in  the  present,  though  poor  in  the  past, 
I  yearn  for  the  future,  vague  and  vast; 
And  lo !  what  treasure  of  glorious  things 
Giant  Futurity  sheds  from  his  wings; 

Pleasures  are  there,  like  dropping  balms, 
And  glory  and  honour  with  chaplets  and  palms. 
And  mind  well  at  ease,  and  gladness,  and  health, 
A  river  of  peace,  and  a  mine  of  wealth ! 


.?i!» 


THE    SONG    OF    SIXTEEN.  Ulf 

Away  with  your  counsels,  and  hinder  me  not,^ 
On,  on  let  me  press  to  my  brilliant  lot; 
Young  and  strong,  and  sanguine  and  free, 
How  knowest  thou  what  1  may  be? 


/nrtq. 

An,  poor  youth !  in  pitiful  truth. 
Thy  pride  must  feel  a  fall,  poor  youth : 
What  thou  shalt  be  well  have  I  seen, — 
Thou  shalt  be  only  what  others  have  been. 

Haply,  within  a  few  swift  years, 
A  mind  bow'd  down  by  troubles  and  fears, 
The  commonest  drudge  of  men  and  things. 
Instead  of  your  —  conquering  heroes  and  kings; 

Haply,  to  follies  an  early  wreck, — 

For  the  cloud  of  presumption  is  now  like  a  speck, 

And  with  a  whelming,  sudden  sweep 

The  storm  of  temptation  roars  over  the  deep; 

Lower  the  sails  of  pride,  rash  youth, — 
Stand  to  the  lowly  tiller  of  truth ; 
Quick,  or  your  limber  bark  shall  be 
The  sport  of  the  winds  on  a  stormy  sea. 

Care  and  peril  in  lieu  of  joy, — 

Guilt  and  dread  may  bo  thine,  proud  boy: 

Lo,  thy  mantling  chalice  of  life 

Is  foaming  with  sorrow,  and  sickness,  and  strife; 


169  FORTY.  f 

Cheated  by  pleasure,  and  sated  with  pain, — 
Watching  for  honour,  and  watching  in  vain, — 
Aching  in  heart,  and  ailing  in  head, 
Wearily  earning  daily  bread. 

—  It  is  well.     I  discern  a  tear  on  thy  cheek : 
It  is  well, —  thou  art  humbled,  and  silent,  and  meek: 
Now, —  courage  again!  and,  with  peril  to  cope. 
Gird  thee  with  vigour,  and  helm  thee  with  hope ! 

For  life,  good  youth,  hath  never  an  ill 

Which  hope  cannot  scatter,  and  faith  cannot  kill; 

And  stubborn  realities  never  shall  bind 

The  firee-spreading  wings  of  a  cheerful  mind. 


€)i  Inng  nf  ^nn% 

I  AM  not  old, —  I  cannot  be  old. 

Though  threescore  years  and  ten 
Have  wasted  away,  like  a  tale  that  is  told, 

The  lives  of  other  men : 

I  am  not  old;  though  friends  and  foes 
Alike  have  gone  down  to  their  graves. 

And  left  me  alone  to  my  joys  or  ray  woes. 
As  a  rock  in  the  midst  of  the  waves: 

I  am  not  old, —  I  cannot  be  old. 

Though  tottering,  wrinkled,  and  grey; 

Though  my  eyes  are  dim,  and  my  marrow  is  cold, 
Call  me  not  old  to-day. 


THE    SONG    OF    SEVENTY.  160 

For,  early  memories  round  me  throng, 

Old  times,  and  manners,  and  men. 
As  I  look  behind  on  my  journey  so  long 

Of  threescore  miles  and  ten; 

I  look  behind,  and  am  once  more  young, 

Buoyant,  and  brave,  and  bold. 
And  my  heart  can  sing,  as  of  yore  it  sung, 

Before  they  call'd  me  old. 

I  do  not  see  her  —  the  old  wife  there  — 

Shrivell'd,  and  haggard,  and  grey, 
But  I  look  on  her  blooming,  and  soft,  and  fair, 

As  she  was  on  her  wedding-day : 

I  do  not  see  you,  daughters  and  sons. 

In  the  likeness  of  women  and  men. 
But  I  kiss  you  now  as  I  kissed  you  once, 

My  fond  little  children  then: 

And,  as  my  own  grandson  rides  on  my  knee, 

Or  plays  with  his  hoop  or  kite, 
I  can  well  recollect  I  was  merry  as  he  — 

The  bright-eyed  little  wight ! 

'Tis  not  long  since, —  it  cannot  be  long, — 

My  years  so  soon  were  spent. 
Since  I  was  a  boy,  both  straight  and  strong, 

Yet  now  am  I  feeble  and  bent. 

A  dream,  a  dream, —  it  is  all  a  dream  I 

A  strange,  sad  dream,  good  sooth; 
For  old  as  I  am,  and  old  as  I  seem. 

My  heart  is  full  of  youth : 


160  THESONQOFSEVENTY. 

Eye  hath  not  seen,  tongue  hath  not  told, 
^  And  ear  hath  not  heard  it  sung, 

^  How  buoyant  and  bold,  though  it  seem  to  grow  old, 

Is  the  heart,  for  ever  young; 

For  ever  young, —  though  life's  old  age 

Hath  every  nerve  unstrung; 
The  heart,  the  heart  is  a  heritage 

That  keeps  the  old  man  young! 


Away  with  fabe  Fashion,  so  calm  and  so  chill, 

"Where  pleasure  itself  cannot  please; 
Away  with  cold  breeding,  that  faithlessly  still 

Affects  to  be  quite  at  its  ease; 
For  the  deepest  in  feeling  is  highest  in  rank, 

The  freest  is  first  of  the  band, 
And  nature's  own  Nobleman,  friendly  and  frank, 

Is  a  man  with  his  heart  in  his  hand! 

Fearless  in  honesty,  gentle  yet  just. 

He  warmly  can  love, — and  can  hate. 
Nor  will  he  bow  down  with  his  face  in  the  dust 

To  Fashion's  intolerant  state : 
For  best  in  good  breeding,  and  highest  in  rank. 

Though  lowly  or  poor  in  the  laiid, 
Is  Nature's  own  Nobleman,  friendly  and  frank. 

The  man  with  his  heart  in  his  hand ! 

His  fashion  is  passion,  sincere  and  intense. 

His  impulses,  simple  and  true, 
Yet  temper'd  by  judgment,  and  taught  by  good  sense, 

And  cordial  with  me,  and  with  you : 


nature's  nobleman.  isi 

For  the  finest  in  manners,  as  Lighest  in  rank, 

It  is  ymi,  man !  or  you,  man !  who  stand  ^ 

Nature's  own  Nobleman,  friendly  and  frank, — 
A  man  with  his  heart  in  his  hand ! 


Mnn  gtne  uji! 

Never  give  up  !  it  is  wiser  and  better 

Always  to  hope,  than  once  to  despair; 
Fling  oflF  the  load  of  Doubt's  heavy  fetter, 

And  break  the  dark  spell  of  tyrannical  care : 
Never  give  up  !  or  the  burthen  may  sink  you, — 

Providence  kindly  has  mingled  the  cup, 
And  in  all  trials  or  troubles,  bethink  you, 

The  watchword  of  life  must  be.  Never  give  up! 

Never  give  up !  there  are  chances  and  changes 

Helping  the  hopeful  a  hundred  to  one, 
And  through  the  chaos  High  "Wisdom  arranges 

Ever  success, —  if  you  '11  only  hope  on  : 
Never  give  up  !  for  the  wisest  is  boldest, 

Knowing  that  Providence  mingles  the  cup, 
And  of  all  maxims  the  best,  as  the  oldest, 

Is  the  true  watchword  of  Never  give  up ! 

Never  give  up!  —  though  the  giapc-shot  may  rattle, 

Or  the  fulU  thunder-cloud  over  you  burst, 
Stand  like  a  rock, — and  the  storm  or  the  battle 

Little  shall  harm  you,  though  doing  their  worst: 
Never  give  up!  —  if  adversity  presses. 

Providence  wisely  has  mingled  the  cup, 
And  the  best  counsel,  in  all  your  distresses, 

Is  the  stout  watchword  of  Never  give  up ! 


162      .^  THE    SUN. 


IB  I^IIII. 


Blame  not,  ye  million  worshippers  of  gold  — 
Modern  idolaters  —  their  works  and  ways, 

When  Asia's  children,  in  the  times  of  old, 

Knelt  to  the  sun,  outpouring  prayer  and  praise 
As  to  God's  central  throne;  for  when  the  blaze 

Of  that  grand  eye  is  on  me,  and  I  stand 
Watching  its  majesty  with  painful  gaze, 

I  too  could  kneel  among  that  Persian  band, 
Had  not  the  Architect  of  yon  bright  sphere 

Taught  me  Himself;  bidding  me  look  above. 
Beneath,  around,  and  still  to  find  Him  —  here ! 
King  of  the  heart,  dwelling  in  no  fixt  globe, 

But  gladly  throned  within  the  spirit  of  love, 
Wearing  that  -light  ethereal  as  a  robe. 


Ck  3Jlnnii. 


I  KNOW  thee  not,  0  Moon, —  thou  cavern'd  realm, 

Sad  satellite,  a  giant  ash  of  death. 

Where  cold,  alternate,  and  the  sulphurous  breath 
Of  ravaging  volcanoes,  overwhelm 
All  chance  of  life  like  oui's, —  art  thou  not 

Some  fallow  world,  after  a  reaping  time 
Of  creatures'  judgment,  resting  in  thy  lot? 
Or  haplier  must  I  take  thee  for  the  blot 

On  God's  fair  firmament,  the  home  of  crime, 
The  prison-house  of  sin,  where  damnM  souls 

Feed  upon  punishment?  —  0  thought  sublime, 
That,  amid  Night's  black  deeds,  when  evil  prowls 

Through  the  broad  world,  then,  watching  sinners  well, 

Glares  over  all  the  wakeful  eye  of — Hell! 


THE    STARS.  Mt 

f  IjB  Itars. 

Far-flaming  stars,  ye  sentinels  of  Space, 

Patient  and  silent  ministers  around 
Your  Queen,  the  Moon,  whose  melancholy  face 

Seems  ever  pale  with  pity  and  grief  profound 
For  sinful  Earth, —  I,  a  poor  groveller  here, 

A  captive  Eagle  chain 'd  to  this  dull  ground, 
Look  up  and  love  your  light  in  hope  and  fear; 

Hope,  that  among  your  myriad  host  is  one, 
A  kingdom  for  my  spirit,  a  bright  place 

Where  I  shall  reign  when  this  short  race  is  run, 

An  heir  of  joy,  and  glory's  mighty  son ! 
Yet,  while  I  hope,  the  fear  will  freeze  my  brain  — 
What  if  indeed  for  worthless  me  remain 

No  waiting  sceptre,  no  predestined  throne? 


(Dnr  Itingkni. 

Hence,  doubts  of  darkness !  I  am  not  mine  own, 

But  ransom'd  by  the  King  of  that  bright  host: 

In  him  my  just  humility  shall  boast. 
And  claim  through  him  that  sceptre  and  that  throne. 
Yes,  world  of  light, —  when  by  the  booming  sea 

At  eve  I  loiter  on  this  shingly  coast. 
In  seeming  idleness, —  I  gaze  on  thee, 
(I  know  not  which  —  but  one,)  fated  to  be 

My  glorious  heritage,  my  heavenly  home, 
A  temple  and  a  paradise  for  me. 

Whence  my  celestial  form  at  will  may  roam 

To  other  worlds,  unthought  and  unexplored, 
Whose  atmosphere  is  bliss  and  liberty, 

The  palaces  and  gardens  of  the  Lord  I 


iM  FORGIVE    AND    rOROKX. 


/nrginn  nnli  /nrgtt. 

When  streams  of  unkindness,  as  bitter  as  gall, 

Bubble  up  from  the  heart  to  the  tongue, 
And  Meekness  is  writhing  in  torment  and  thrall, 

By  the  hands  of  Ingratitude  wrung, — 
In  the  heat  of  injustice,  unwept  and  unfair. 

While  the  anguish  is  festering  yet. 
None,  none  but  an  angel  or  God  can  declare 

"I  now  can  forgive  and  forget." 

But,  if  the  bad  spirit  is  chased  from  the  heart. 

And  the  lips  are  in  penitence  steep' d. 
With  the  wrong  so  repented  the  wrath  will  depart, 

Though  scorn  on  injustice  were  heap'd; 
For  the  best  compensation  is  paid  for  all  ill, 

When  the  cheek  with  contrition  is  wet, 
And  every  one  feels  it  is  possible  still 

At  once  to  forgive  and  forget. 

To  forget?     It  is  hard  for  a  man  with  a  mind, 

However  his  heart  may  forgive. 
To  blot  out  all  insults  and  evils  behind. 

And  but  for  the  future  to  live: 
Then  how  shall  it  be?  for  at  every  turn 

Recollection  the  spirit  will  fret. 
And  the  ashes  of  injury  smoulder  and  bum. 

Though  we  strive  to  forgive  and  forget. 

Oh,  hearken !  my  tongue  shall  the  riddle  unseal. 
And  mind  shall  be  partner  with  heart. 

While  thee  to  thyself  I  bid  conscience  reveal, 
And  show  thee  how  evil  thou  art: 


FORGIVE    AND    FORGET.  IM 

Remember  thy  follies,  thy  sins,  and  —  thy  crimes, 

How  vast  is  that  infinite  debt! 
Yet  Mercy  hath  seven  by  seventy  times 

Been  swift  to  forgive  and  forget ! 

Brood  not  on  insults  or  injuries  old, 

For  thou  art  injurious  too, —  # 

Count  not  their  sum  till  the  total  is  told, 

For  thou  art  unkind  and  untrue : 
And  if  all  thy  harms  are  forgotten,  forgiven. 

Now  mercy  with  justice  is  met, 
Oh,  who  would  not  gladly  take  lessons  of  heaven, 

Nor  learn  to  forgive  and  forget? 

Yes,  yes;  let  a  man,  when  his  enemy  weeps, 

Be  quick  to  receive  him  a  friend; 
For  thus  on  his  head  in  kindness  he  heaps 

Hot  coals, —  to  refine  and  amend; 
And  hearts  that  are  Christian  more  eagerly  yearn, 

As  a  nurse  on  her  innocent  pet, 
Over  lips  that,  once  bitter,  to  penitence  turn 

And  whisper.  Forgive  and  forget. 


"Blij  Mnl  to  mt  a  Tungkm  10." 

Eureka  !  this  is  truth  sublime. 
Defying  change,  outwrcstling  time  — 
Eureka!  well  that  trnth  is  told, 
Wisely  spake  the  bard  of  old  — 
Eureka !  there  is  peace  and  pnusc 
In  this  short  and  simple  phrase, 
A  sea  of  comforts,  wide  and  deep. 
Wherein  my  conscious  soul  to  steep, 


MY     mind's    kingdom. 

A  hoard  of  happy- making  wealth 

To  doat  on,  miserly,  by  stealth, 

Through  Time  my  reason's  ripest  fruit, 

For  all  eternity  its  root, 

Earth's  harvest,  and  the  seed  of  heaven, 

To  me,  to  me,  by  mercy  given! 

Yes,  Eureka, —  I  have  found  it, 
And  before  the  world  will  sound  it; 
This  remains,  and  still  shall  stay 
When  life's  gauds  have  past  away, 
This  of  old  my  treasure-truth. 
The  bosom  joy  that  warm'd  my  youth. 
My  happiness  in  manhood's  prime. 
My  triumph  down  the  stream  of  time. 
Till  death  shall  lull  this  heart  in  age. 
And  deathless  glory  crown  my  page. 
My  grace-born  truth  and  treasure  this,— 
"My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Noble  solace,  true  and  strong. 
Great  reward  for  human  wrong. 
With  an  inward  blessing  still 
To  compensate  all  earthly  ill. 
To  recompense  for  adverse  fates. 
Woes,  or  wants,  or  scorns,  or  hates, 
To  cherish,  after  man's  neglect. 
When  foes  deride,  and  friends  suspect, 
To  soothe  and  bless  the  spirit  bow'd 
Down  by  the  selfish  and  the  proud. 
To  lift  the  soul  above  this  scene 
Of  petty  troubles  trite  and  mean, 
O  there  is  moral  might  in  this, — 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 


MY    mind's    KINGDOM.  167 

Carve  it  deep,  with  letters  bold, 
In  the  imperishable  gold, 
Grave  it  on  some  primal  rock 
That  hath  stood  the  earthquake  shock, 
Make  that  word  a  citizen 
Dwelling  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
Stamp  it  on  the  printed  page, 
Sound  it  in  the  ears  of  age. 
Gladden  sympathising  youth 
"With  the  soft  music  of  this  truth. 
This  echo'd  note  of  heavenly  bliss, 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Ay,  chide  or  scorn, — I  will  be  proud, — 
I  am  not  of  the  common  crowd; 
No  serf  is  here  to  outward  things, — 
He  rules  with  chiefs  !  he  reigns  with 
Tell  out  thy  secret  joys,  my  mind. 
Free  and  fearless  as  the  wind. 
And  pour  the  triumphs  of  the  soul 
In  words  that  like  a  river  roll, 
Foaming  on  with  vital  force 
From  their  ever-gushing  source. 
Fountains  of  truth,  that  overwhelm 
With  swollen  streams  this  royal  realm, 
And  in  Nilotic  richness  steep 
My  heart's  Thebaid,  rank  and  deep  I 
Or  bolder,  as  my  thoughts  inspire. 
Change  that  water  into  fire! 
From  the  vext  bowels  of  my  soul 
Lava  currents  roar  and  roll, 
Bursting  out  in  torrent  wide 
Through  my  crater's  ragged  side, 
Rushing  on  from  field  to  field 
Till  all  with  boiling  stone  is  seal'd, 
And  my  hot  thoughts,  in  language  pent, 
Stand  their  own  granite  monument  I 


■Win  MT    mind's    kingdom. 

Yes  I  all  the  elements  are  mine, 
To  crush,  create,  dissolve,  combine, — 
All  mine, — the  confidence  is  just, 
On  €k)D  I  ground  my  high-bom  trust 
To  stand,  when  pole  is  rent  from  pole. 
Calm  in  my  majesty  of  soul, 
Watching  the  throes  of  this  wreck'd  world. 
When  from  their  thrones  the  Alps  are  hurl'd, 
When  fire  consumes  earth,  sea  and  air, 
To  stand,  unharm'd,  undaunted  there, 
And  grateful  still  to  boast  in  thj^, 
"My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Brother  poet,  dead  so  long, 
,  Heed  these  echoes  to  thy  song. 

And  love  me  now,  where'er  thou  art, 

Yearning  with  magnetic  heart 

From  thy  throne  in  some  bright  sphere 

On  this  poor  brother,  grovelling  here : 

For  T  too,  I,  can  stoutly  sing 

I  am  every  inch  a  king! 

A  king  of  Thought,  a  Potentate 

Of  glorious  spiritual  state, 

A  king  of  Thought,  a  king  of  Mind, 

Bealms  unmapp'd  and  undefined, — 

A  King!  beneath  no  Man's  control, 

Invested  with  a  royal  soul, 

Crown'd  by  God's  imperial  hand 

Before  Him  as  a  King  to  stand. 

And  by  His  wisdom  train'd  and  taught 

To  rule  my  realms  as  King  of  Thought. 

O  thoughts, —  how  ill  my  fellow-men, 
0  thoughts, —  how  scantly  my  poor  pen 
^Can  guess  or  tell  the  myriad  host 
Wherewith  you  crowd  my  kingdom's  coast! 


MY    mind's    kingdom. 

For  I  am  hemm'd  and  throng'd  about 
With  your  triumphant  rabble-rout, 
Hurried  along  by  that  mad  flood, 
The  joy-excited  multitude, 
A  conqueror,  borne  upon  the  foam 
Of  his  great  people's  gladness  home, 
A  monarch  in  his  grandest  state, 
On  whom  a  thousand  thousand  wait ! 
Lo,  they  come  —  my  Tribes  of  Thought, 
Fierce  and  flush'd  and  fever-fraught ! 
From  the  horizon  all  around 
I  hear  with  pride  their  coming  sound; 
See!  their  banners  circling  near, — 
Glittering  groves  of  shield  and  spoar. 
Flying  clouds  of  troopers  gay. 
Serried  lines  in  dark  array. 
Veterans  calm  with  temper'd  sword, 
And  a  dishcveU'd  frantic  horde, — 
On  they  come  with  furious  force. 
Tramping  foot,  and  thundering  horse, 
On  they  come,  converging  loud. 
With  clanging  arms,  a  glorious  crowd, 
Shouting  impatient,  fierce  and  free, 
For  me  their  Monarch,  yea,  for  me! 

Then,  in  my  majesty  and  power, 

I  quell  the  madness  of  the  hour, 

Bid  that  tumultuous  turmoil  cease, 

And  frown  my  multitudes  to  peace. 

Each  to  his  peril  and  his  post! 

All  hush'd  throughout  my  mighty  host: 

Courage  clear  and  duty  stem, — 

Heads  that  freeze  and  hearts  that  bum; 

Marshall'd  straight  in  order  due, 

Legions !  pass  in  swift  review, 


MT    mind's    KINQDOM. 

Bending  to  my  blazon'd  Will, 

Loyal  to  that  standard  still, 

And  hailing  me  with  homage  then 

King   of  Thoughts  —  and  thus,  of  Men  I 

What?  am  I  powerless  to  control 

Nations,  by  my  single  soul? 

What?  have  I  not  made  thousands  thrill 

By  the  mere  impulse  of  my  will, 

When  the  strong  Thought  goes  forth,  and  binds 

Captive  a  wondering  herd  of  minds? 

And  is  not  this  to  reign  alone 

More  than  the  ermine  and  the  throne, 

The  jewell'd  state,  the  gilded  rooms, 

The  mindless  jay  in  peacock  plumes? 

Yes, —  if  the  inmate  soul  outweighs 

Its  dull  clay  house  in  power  and  praise, 

Yes, —  if  Eternity  be  true. 

And  Time  both  false  and  fleeting  too, 

Then,  humbler  kings,  my  boast  be  this, 

"My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

And  what,  though  weak  and  slow  of  speech, 

111  to  comfort,  dull  to  teach  ? 

What,  though  hiding  from  the  ken 

Of  my  small  prying  fellow-men, — 

Still  within  my  musing  mind 

Wisdom's  secret  stores  I  find, 

And,  little  noticed,  sweetly  feed 

On  hidden  manna,  meat  indeed. 

Blessed  thoughts  I  never  told 

Unconsider'd,  uncontroll'd, 

Rushing  by  as  thick  and  fast 

As  autumn  leaves  upon  the  blast, 

Or  better  like  the  gracious  rain 

Dropping  oc  some  thirsty  plain. 


MY    mind's    kingdom.  ^^ 

And  is  not  this  to  be  a  king, 

To  carry  in  my  heart  a  spring 

Of  ceaseless  pleasures,  deep  and  pure, 

Wealth  cannot  buy,  nor  power  procure? 

Yea, — by  the  poet's  artless  art, 

And  the  sweet  searchings  of  his  heart, 

By  his  unknown  unheeded  bliss, 

"My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Place  me  on  some  desert  shore 

Foot  of  man  ne'er  wander'd  o'er; 

Lock  me  in  a  lonely  cell 

Beneath  some  prison  citadel; 

Still,  here  or  there,  within  I  find 

My  quiet  kingdom  of  the  Mind  : 

Nay, —  mid  the  tempest  fierce  and  dark. 

Float  me  on  peril's  frailest  bark. 

My  quenchless  soul  could  sit  and  think 

And  smile  at  danger's  dizziest  brink : 

And  wherefore?  —  God,  my  God,  is  still 

King  of  kings  in  good  and  ill. 

And  where  He  dwelleth  —  everywhere  — 

Safety  supreme  and  peace  are  there; 

And  where  He  reigneth  —  all  around  — 

Wisdom,  and  love,  and  power  are  found, 

And  reconciled  to  Him  and  bliss,  # 

"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Thus  for  my  days;  each  waking  hour 

Grand  with  majesty  and  power. 

Every  minute  rich  in  treasure, 

Gems  of  peace  and  pearls  of  pleasure. 

And  for  my  nights  —  those  wondrous  nights  I 

How  manifold  my  Mind's  delights. 

When  the  young  truant,  gladly  caught 

In  its  own  labyrinths  of  thought, 


178  MY  mind's  kingdom. 

Finds  there  another  realm  to  range, 
The  dynasties  of  Chance  and  Change. 
0  dreams, — what  know  I  not  of  dreams? 
Their  name,  their  very  essence,  seems 
A  tender  light,  not  dark  nor  clear, 
A  sad  sweet  mystery  wild  and  dear, 
A  dull  soft  feeling  unexplain'd, 
A  lie  half  true,  a  truth  half  feign'd; 
0  dreams, —  what  know  I  not  of  dreams? 
When  Reason,  with  inebriate  gleams, 
Looses  from  his  wise  control 
The  prancing  Fancies  of  the  soul, 
And  sober  Judgment,  slumbering  still, 
Sets  free  Caprice  to  guide  the  Will. 
Within  one  night  have  I  not  spent 
Years  of  adventurous  banishment. 
Strangely  groping  like  the  blind 
In  the  dark  caverns  of  my  mind? 
Have  I  not  dwelt,  from  eve  till  mom. 
Lifetimes  in  length  for  praise  or  scorn, 
With  fancied  joys,  ideal  woes. 
And  all  sensation's  warmest  glows, 
Wondrously  thus  expanding  Life 
Through  seeming  scenes  of  peace  or  strife. 
Until  I  verily  reign  sublime, 
^  A  great  creative  king  of  Time? 

And  there  are  people,  things,  and  places, 
Usual  themes,  familiar  faces, 
A  second  life,  that  looks  as  real 
As  this  dull  world's  own  unideal, 
Another  life  of  dreams  by  night. 
That,  still  forgotten,  wanes  in  light, 
Yet  seems  itself  to  wake  and  sleep, 
And  in  that  sleep  dreams  doubly  deep, 
While  those  same  dreams  may  dream  anon, 
Tangled  mazes  wandering  on ! 


MY    mind's    KINGDOM.  178 

Yes,  I  have  often,  weak  and  worn, 

Feebly  waked  at  earliest  morn. 

As  a  shipwreck'd  sailor,  tost 

By  the  wild  waves  on  some  rough  coast, 

Of  perils  past  remembering  nought 

But  soma  dim  cataracts  of  thought, 

And  only  roused  betimes  to  know 

That  yesterday  seems  years  agio! 

And  I  can  apprehend  full  well 

What  old  Pythagoras  could  tell 

Of  other  scenes,  and  other  climes, 

And  other  Selfs  in  other  times; 

For,  oft  my  consciousness  has  reel'd 

With  scores  of  "Richmonds  in  the  field," 

As,  multiform,  with  no  surprise, 

I  see  myself  in  other  guise. 

And  wonderless  walk  side  by  side 

With  mine  own  soul,  self-multiplied  I 

K  it  be  royal  then  to  reign 

Over  an  infinite  dom^n. 

If  it  be  more  than  monarch  can 

To  lengthen  out  the  life  of  man, 

Yea,  if  a  godlike  thing  it  be 

To  revel  in  ubiquity. 

Is  there  but  empty  boast  in  this, 

"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is  1" 

—  Peace,  rash  foolj  be  proud  no  more. 
Count  thy  faults  and  follies  o'er, 
Turn  aside,  and  note  within 
Thy  secret  charnel-house  of  Sin, 
Thy  bitter  heart,  thy  covetous  mind. 
Evil  thoughts,  and  words  unkind : 
Can  so  foul  aud  moan  a  thing 
Reign  a  spiritual  King? 


IM  ^       MY    mind's    KINGDOM. 

Art  thou  not  —  yea  thou,  myself, 
In  hope  a  slave  to  pride  and  pelf? 
Art  thou  not, —  yea  thou,  my  mind, 
Weak  and  naked,  poor  and  blind? 
Yea,  be  humble;  yea,  be  still; 
Meekly  bow  that  rebel  Will; 
Seek  not  selfishly  for  praise; 
Go  more  softly  all  thy  days; 
For  to  thee  belongs  no  power. 
Wretched  insect  of  an  hour, — 
And  if  God,  in  bounteous  dole, 
Hath  grafted  life  upon  thy  soul, 
Know  thou,  there  is  out  of  Him 
Nor  light  in  mind,  nor  might  in  limb; 
And,  but  for  One,  who  from  the  grave 
Of  sin  and  death  stood  forth  to  save, 
Thy  mind,  that  royal  mind    of  thine, 
So  great,  ambitious,  and  divine, 
Would  but  a  root  of  anguish  be, 
A  madness  and  a  misery, 
A  bitter  fear,  a  hideous  care 
All  too  terrible  to  bear, 
Klingly, —  but  king  of  pains  and  woes, 
The  sceptred  slave  to  throbs  and  throes! 

^  Justly  then,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

My  royal  soul  shall  bend  the  knee. 
My  royal  soul.  Thy  glorious  breath. 
By  Thee  set  free  from  guilt  and  death. 
Before  Thy  majesty  bows  down. 
Offering  the  homage  of  her  crown, 
Well  pleased  to  sing  in  better  bliss, 
"My  God  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 


TAEBINQ    CHUBOH.  s^  176 

(barring  CjiErrij. 

1844. 
Mother, — beneath  fair  Tarring's  heavenward  spire, 

"Where  in  old  years  thy  youthful  vows  were  paid, 
When  God  had  granted  thee  thy  heart's  desire, 

And  she  went  forth  a  wife,  who  came  a  maid, 

With  mindful  steps  thus  wisely  have  we  stray'd, 
Full  of  deep  thoughts :  for  where  that  sacred  fire 

Of  Love  was  kindled,  in  the  self-same  spot. 

Thou,   and  the  dear  companion  of  thy  lot. 
Thy  helpmate  all  those  years,  mine  honour'd  sire, 

To-day  have  found  fulfill'd  before  your  eyes 
The  promise  of  old  time;  —  look  round  and  see 

Your  children's  children !  lo,  these  babes  arise, 
And  call  you  blessed :  Blessed  both  be  ye ! 
And  in  your  blessing  bless  ye  these,  and  ma 


€]^t  samp. 

June  29, 1848. 
Foa  memories,  and  prayer,  and  pious  thought 

Of  days  departed,  and  the  dear  ones  dead. 
Tarring,  once  more  thy  sacred  walls  I  sought : 

So,  to  some  native  spot,  some  genial  bed,  * 

The  botanist  goes  forth  to  seek  and  find 
His  curious  fern  or  lichen;  so,  my  mind 
In  melancholy  pleasure  wisely  taught 

Culls  here  its  rarest  weed :  with  tender  care 

Gather  it  up  and  store  it.     Years  ago 
From  this  old  choir  a  young  and  loving  pair 
Went  out  just  wedded ;  and  the  glittering  show 
Of  pleasure,  wealth,  and  promise  glad  and  gay, 

Pass'd  through  these  portals ;  —  God  was  with  you  thera, 
My  Father  and  my  Mother!  —  these  were  They. 


>?♦- 


THE    SAME    PLACE    AND    DAY 


Mother  !  this  day,  one  little  year  agone, 

Thy  spirit  pass'd  from  pain  to  pcacefulness  j 
Look  down  then  in  thy  love,  and  smile  upon 

My  duteous  pilgrimage;  look  down  and  bless 
In  thine  own  tender  love  of  old,  thy  son. 
For  in  this  spot,  where  on  thy  bridal-dress 
The  villagers  threw  flowers,  now  my  heart, 
To  honour  thee,  where'er  in  bliss  thou  art. 
Pours  forth  its  deep  libation.     Many  years 

Have  sped  away,  and  thou,  the  blushing  bride, 
After  long  sojourn  down  this  vale  of  tears 
With  him  thy  lover  ever  at  thy  side, 
Didst  reap  the  promise  of  that  word  to  thee 
Fulfill'd,— "  Thy  children's  children  thou  shalt  see." 


At  length,  a  dreary  length  of  many  years, 
God's  favour  hath  shone  forth !  and  blest  thee  well, 

0  handmaid  of  the  Lord,  for  all  thy  tears. 

For  all  thy  prayers,  and  hope,  and  faith  —  and  fears, 

With  that  best  treasure  of  consummate  joy 
A  childless  wife  alone  can  fully  tell 

How  sorely  long  withheld — her  first-bom  boy: 
This  blessing  is  from  heav'n;  to  heav'n  once  more, 
Another  Hannah  with  her  Samuel, 

Render  thou  back  the  talent  yielding  ten, 
A  spirit,  train'd  right  early  to  adore, 

A  heart,  to  yearn  upon  its  fellow-men, 
A  being,  meant  and  made  for  endless  heaven, 
This,  give  to  God  :  this,  God  to  thee  hath  giv«Q. 


DUTY.  17? 


Peabls  before  swine:  this  is  an  old  complaint; 

In  very  humbleness,  and  not  in  pride 
The  spirit  feels  it  true;  yet  makes  a  feint 
To  rest  with  man's  neglect  well  satisfied, 
And  have  its  wealth  of  words,  its  stores  of  thought, 

Despised  or  unregarded :  woe  betide 
The  heart  that  lives  on  praise !  considering  nought 
Of  Duty's  royal  edicts,  that  command 

Thy  talents  to  be  lent,  thy  lamp  to  shine : 
Soul,  be  not  faint;  nor,  body,  stay  thy  hand; 

Heed  only  this, —  not  whether  those  be  swine. 
But  whether  these  be  pearls,  precious  and  pure; 
That  80,  whatever  fate  the  world  make  thine. 
With  God  for  Judge,  thy  guerdon  be  secure. 


Cnnnstl. 


FOR    MUSIC. 


There  is  a  time  for  praising, 

And  a  better  time  for  pray'r, — 
The  heart  its  anthem  raising, 

Or  uttering  its  care : 
One  minute  is  for  smiling. 

Another  for  the  tear, — 
Hope,  by  turns,  beguiling, 

Or  her  haggard  brother,  Fear. 


^78  COUNSEL. 


But,  if  in  joy  thou  praisest 

The  generous  Hand  that  gave, — 
And  if  in  woe  thou  raisest 

The  pray'r  that  He  may  save; 
Thy  griefs  shall  seem  all  pleasure 

As  the  chidings  of  a  Friend, 
And  thy  joy's  ecstatic  measure 

A  beginning  without  end! 


FOR    MUSIC. 

I  NEVER  left  the  place  that  knew  me, 

And  may  never  know  me  more, 
Where  the  cords  of  kindness  drew  me, 

And  have  gladden'd  me  of  yore, 
But  my  secret  soul  has  smarted 

With  a  feeling  full  of  gloom 
For  the  days  that  are  departed 

And  the  place  I  cali'd  my  Home. 

I  am  not  of  those  who  wander 

Unaffection'd  here  and  there. 
But  my  heart  must  still  be  fonder 

Of  my  sites  of  joy  or  care ; 
And  I  point  sad  memory's  finger 

(Though  my  faithless  foot  may  roam) 
Where  I've  most  been  made  to  linger 

In  the  place  I  cali'd  my  Home. 


\ 


•  »T£OON£S.       .  179 


FOR  MUSIC. 

**Let  byegones  be  byegones," — they  foolishly  say, 

And  bid  me  be  wise  and  forget  themj 
But  old  recollections  are  active  to-day, 

And  I  can  do  nought  but  regret  them : 
Though  the  present  be  pleasant,  all  joyous  and  gay, 

And  promising  well  for  the  morrow, 
I  love  to  look  back  on  the  years  past  away. 

Embalming  my  byegones  in  sorrow. 

If  the  morning  of  life  has  a  mantle  of  grey. 

Its  noon  will  be  blyther  and  brighter; 
If  March  has  its  storm,  there  is  sunshine  in  May, 

And  light  out  of  darkness  is  lighter : 
Thus  the  present  is  pleasant,  a  cheerful  to-day. 

With  a  wiser,  a  soberer  gladness. 
Because  it  is  tinged  with  the  mellowing  ray 

Of  a  yesterday's  sunset  of  sadness. 


HiiU,  ^Dritannia! 

▲  BTIRSINO  SONO  FOR    PATRIOTS,   IN  THE  TBAR   1860. 
To  the  tune  of**Wha  wouUna  fight  for  Charlie  f" 

Rise  I  ye  gallant  youth  of  Britain, 
Gather  to  your  cf^mhys  call, 

On  your  hearts  her    ^^n  is  written, 
Kise  to  help  he        ^  and  all ! 


180  SULK,    BBITA^tflA.^ 

Cast  away  each  feud  and  factioa, 

Brood  not  over  wrong  nor  iU, — 
Rouse  your  virtues  into  action, 

For  we  love  our  country  still, — 
Hail,  Britannia!  hail,  Britannia! 

Raise  that  thrilling  shout  once  more. 
Rule,  Britannia!  Rule,  Britannia, 

Conqueror  over  sea  and  shore! 

France  is  coming,  full  of  bluster, 

Hot  to  wipe  away  her  stain, 
Therefore,  brothers,  here  we  muster 

Just  to  give  it  her  again ! 
And  if  foeman,  blind  with  fury. 

Dare  to  cross  our  ocean-gulf, 
"Wait  not  then  for  judge  nor  jury, — 

Shoot  them  as  you  would  a  wolf! 
For  Britannia,  just  Britannia, 

Claims  our  chorus  as  before. 
Rule,  Britannia!     Rule,  Britannia, 

Conqueror  over  sea  and  shore. 

They  may  writhe,  for  we  have  gall'd  thttm 

With  our  guns  in  every  clime, — 
They  may  hate  us,  for  we  called  them 

Serfs  and  subjects  in  old  time ! 
Boasting  Gaul,  we  calmly  scorn  you 

As  old  ^sop's  bull  the  frogs. 
Come  and  welcome !  for,  we  warn  you, 

We  shall  fling  you  to  our  dogs ! 
For  Britannia,  our  Britannia, 

Thunders  with  a  lion's  roar. 
Rule,  Britan  ja!     Rule,  Britannia  1 

Conqufl'or     rr  sea  and  shore. 


/•">» 


'■^s. 


^        EULE,    BRITANNIA. 

See,  uprear'd  our  holy  standard ! 

Crowd  around  it,  gallant  hearts ! 
What?  should  Britain's  fame  be  slander'd 

As  by  fault  on  our  parts? 
Let  the  rabid  Frenchman  threaten, 

Let  the  mad  invader  come. 
We  will  hunt  them  out  of  Britain, 

Or  can  die  for  hearth  and  home! 
For  Britannia,  dear  Britannia 

Wakes  our  chorus  evermore, 
Rule,  Britannia !     Hule,  Britannia ! 

Conqueror  over  sea  and  shore. 

Rise  then,  patriots !  name  endearing, 

Flock  from  Scotland's  moors  and  dales, 
From  the  green  glad  fields  of  Erin, 

From  the  mountain  homes  of  Wales, — 
Rise  !  for  sister  England  calls  you. 

Rise  !  our  commonweal  to  serve. 
Rise!  while  now  the  song  enthralls  you, 

Thrilling  every  vein  and  nerve, 
Hail,  Britannia!  hail,  Britannia! 

Conquer,  as  thou  didst  of  yore ! 
Rule,  Britannia!     Rule,  Britannia! 

Over  every  sea  and  shore. 


Ut  THZ    KMIGEANT    SHIP.- 


€)^t  d^raigrnnt  ^liip. 


FOR   MUSIC. 

Far  away,  far  away, 
The  emigrant  ship  must  sail  to-day: 

Cruel  ship, —  to  look  so  gay 
Bearing  the  exiles  far  away. 

Sad,  and  sore,  sad  and  sore, 
Many  a  fond  heart  bleeds  at  the  core : 

Cruel  dread, —  to  meet  no  more, 
Bi'iter  sorrow,  sad  and  sore. 

Many  years,  many  years, 
At  best  will  they  battle  with  perils  and  fears: 

Cruel  pilot, —  for  he  steers 
The  exiles  away  for  many  years. 

Long  ago,  long  ago ! 
For  the  days  that  are  gone  their  tears  shall  flows 

Cruel  hour, —  to  tear  them  so 
From  all  they  cherish'd  long  ago. 

Fare  ye  well,  fare  ye  well! 
To  joy  and  to  hope  it  sounds  as  a  knell: 

Cruel  tale  it  were  to  tell 
How  the  exile  sighs  farewell. 

Far  away,  far  away! 
Is  there  indeed  no  hope  to-day? 

Cruel  and  false  it  were  to  say 
There  are  no  pleanures  far  away. 


THE    EMIGRANT    SHIP.  188 

Far  away,  far  away ! 
Every  night  and  every  day 

Blind  and  wise  it  were  to  pray, 
God  be  with  them  far  away! 


I  HAVE  achieved  a  tower  of  fame 

More  durable  than  gold, 
And  loftier  than  the  royal  frame 

Of  Pyramids  of  old, — 
Which  none  inclemencies  of  clime, 

Nor  fiercest  winds  that  blow, 
Nor  endless  change,  nor  lapse  of  time| 

Shall  ever  overthrow! 

I  cannot  perish  utterly: 

The  brighter  part  of  me 
Must  live  —  and  live  —  and  never  die, 

But  baffle  Death's  decree ! 
For  I  shall  always  grow,  and  spread 

My  new-blown  honours  still, 
Long  as  the  priest  and  vestal  tread 

The  Capitolian  hill. 

I  shall  be  sung,  where  thy  rough  waves, 

My  native  river,  foam, — 
And  where  old  Daunus  scantly  laves 

And  rules  his  rustic  home ; 
As  chief  and  first  I  shall  be  sung, 

Though  lowly,  great  in  might 
To  tune  my  country's  heart  and  tongue, 

And  tune  them  both  aright. 

13 


184  THE    ASSURANCK    OV    HOUACE. 

Thou  then,  my  soul,  assume  thy  state, 

And  take  thine  honoiu^  due; 
Be  proud,  as  thy  deserts  are  great, — 

To  thine  own  praise  be  true ! 
Thou  too,  celestial  Muse,  come  down. 

And  with  kind  haste  prepare 
The  laurel  for  a  Delphic  crown 

To  weave  thy  Poet's  hair. 

HoR.  Od.  XXX.  lib.  iu 


Now  have  I  done  my  work !  —  which  not  Jove's  ire 
Can  make  undone,  nor  sword,  nor  time,  nor  fire. 
Whene'er  that  day,  whose  only  powers  extend 
Against  this  body,  my  brief  life  shall  end, 
Still  in  my  better  portion  evermore 
Above  the  stars  undying  shall  I  soar! 
My  name  shall  never  die:  but  through  all  time. 
Wherever  Rome  shall  reach  a  conquer'd  clime, 
There,  in  that  people's  tongue,  shall  this  my  page 
Be  read  and  glorified  from  age  to  age;  — 
Yea,  if  the  bodings  of  my  spirit  give 
True  note  of  inspiration,  I  shall  live ! 

Ovid.  Met.  subfinem. 


Lottery  tickets  every  day,— 
And  ever  drawn  a  blank : 

Yet  none  the  less  we  pant  and  pray 
For  prizes  in  that  bank: 


POST-LETTERS.  18S 

Morn  by  morn,  and  week  by  week, 

They  cheat  us,  or  amuse. 
Whilst  on  we  fondly  hope,  and  seek 

Some  stirring  daily  news. 

The  heedless  postman  on  his  path 

Is  scattering  joys  and  woes; 
He  bears  the  seeds  of  life  and  death, 

And  drops  them  as  he  goes ! 
I  never  note  him  trudging  near 

Upon  his  common  track. 
But  all  my  heart  is  hope,  or  fear, 

With  visions  bright,  or  black  I 

I  hope  —  what  hope  I  not? — vague  things 

Of  wondrous  possible  good; 
I  dread  —  as  vague  imaginings, 

A  very  viper's  brood : 
Fame's  sunshine,  fortune's  golden  dews 

May  now  be  hovering  o'er,— 
Or  the  pale  shadow  of  ill  news 

Be  cowering  at  my  door! 

0  Mystery,  master-key  to  life. 
Thou  spring  of  every  hour, 

1  love  to  wrestle  in  thy  strife. 
And  tempt  thy  perilous  power; 

I  love  to  know  that  none  can  know 

What  this  day  may  bring  forth, 
What  bliss  for  me,  for  me  what  woo 

Is  travailing  in  birth ! 

See,  on  my  neighbour's  threshold  stands 

Yon  careless  common  man, 
Bearing,  perchance,  in  those  coarse  hands 

—  My  Being's  altcr'd  plan! 


186  POST-LETTERS. 

My  germs  of  pleasure,  or  of  pain, 

Of  trouble,  or  of  peace. 
May  there  lie  thick  as  drops  of  rain 

Distill'd  from  Gideon's  fleece ! 

"Who  knoweth?  may  not  loves  be  dead, — 

Or  those  we  loved  laid  low, — 
Who  knoweth  ?  may  not  wealth  be  fled. 

And  all  the  world  my  foe? 
Or  who  can  tell  if  Fortune's  hour 

(Which  once  on  all  doth  shine) 
Be  not  within  this  morning's  dower, 

A  prosperous  mom  of  mine  ? 

Ah,  cold  Reality!  —  in  spite 

Of  hopes,  and  endless  chance, 
That  bitter  postman,  ruthless  wight, 

Has  cheated  poor  Romance : 
No  letters !     0  the  dreary  phrase : 

Another  day  forlorn:  — 
And  thus  I  wend  upon  my  ways 

To  watch  another  mom. 

Cease,  babbler  !  —  let  those  doubtings  cease ; 

What?  should  a  son  of  heaven 
With  the  pure  manna  of  his  Peace 

Mix  up  this  faithless  leaven? 
Not  so!  —  for  in  the  hands  of  God, 

And  in  none  earthly  will. 
Abides  alike  my  stafi*,  and  rod, 

My  good,  and  seeming  ill. 


ADVICE.  187 


%Mth 

Make  haste,  make  haste,  my  prudent  little  friends! 
You  lag  behind  the  world,  both  blind  and  halt, — 
For  your  own  credit  leave  off  finding  fault, 
And  wisely  bustle  up  to  make  amends : 

Look  you !  time  was,  when  even  such  small  salt 
As  your  encouragement  and  speaking  fair 

Would  have  been  prized  and  grateful;  savouring  well 
The  taste  of  bitterness,  the  touch  of  care 

The  proud  young  spirit  felt,  but  scorn'd  to  tell, 
When,  keenly  sensitive  of  man's  despite. 
While  conscious  that  from  kinder  Heav'n  above 

A  gift  had  been  vouchsafed  of  purest  light. 
That  spirit  coveted  your  looks  of  love. 

And  yeam'd  around,  and  ye  refused  his  Bight. 


Yet  were  there  other  some,  the  generous  few 
Kindly  prophetic,  helping  with  their  praise 
Balmy  and  precious  as  the  morning  dew 

Or  early  sunshine  in  those  anxious  days : 
All  thanks,  all  thanks!  —  I  now  can  shine  on  you; 
And  love  you  for  the  love  that  linger'd  not 

Till  honour  and  success  hath  wreath 'd  my  pen, 
Till  God  had  seal'd  to  me  a  blessed  lot, — 

That  pleasant  heritage,  the  hearts  of  men. 
All  thanks,  ye  noble  souls !     Behold,  the  rill 
Your  dewy  praise  did  graciously  distil 

Soon  gather'd  to  a  stream,  and  swelling  then 
Grew  to  a  river,  and  that  river  w^e 
Far  out  to  sea  now  rolls  its  ceaseless  tide. 


188  SOCIETY. 

Alas,  we  do  but  act;  we  are  not  free: 
The  presence  of  another  is  a  chain 
My  trammeU'd  spirit  strives  to  break,  in  vain 

How  strangely  different  myself  from  me  I 
Thoughtful  in  solitude,  serenely  blest, 

Crown'd  and  enthroned  in  mental  majesty, 

Equal  to  all  things  great,  and  daring  all, 
I  muse  of  mysteries,  and  am  at  rest: 
But  in  the  midst,  some  dull  intruded  guest 

Topples  me  from  my  heights,  holding  in  thrall 
With  his  hard  eye  the  traitor  in  my  breast, 
That  before  humbler  intellects  is  cow'd. 
Silently  shrinking  from  the  common  crowd, 
And  only  with  the  highest  self-possest. 


dATTER,  unlit  by  love,  unlink'd  to  Mind, 

Never  hath  reached  the  poet's  inner  heart: 
Tho'  the  strong  magic  of  his  plastic  art 
With  Prospero's  own  power  avails  to  bind 
Caliban's  husk  to  play  its  coarser  part 
Of  dutiful  captivity  to  Thought, — 
Yet,  to  seek  sympathy,  and  seeking  find 
Where'er  in  human  or  divine  he  ought, 

Herein  is  found  his  joy !     Think  it  not  strange 
If  Nature's  most  sublime  or  beauteous  form. 
Some  pastoral  vale,  or  snowy  mountain  range, 
Or  cataract,  or  lake,  or  tropic  storm, 
Rouse  not  the  soul^ike  actions  great  or  kind; 

Those  charm  mine  eyes, — but  these  my  spirit  warm. 


ORiaiNAL    PROLOGUE.  18D 

(Driginal  ^irnlngne, 

TO  ANONYMOUS  POEKS. 

Mt  heart  presents  her  gift :  in  turn,  of  thee 

I  ask  a  little  time,  an  idle  hour, 
Kindly  to  spend  with  these  my  thoughts  and  me, 

Wooing  the  fragrance  of  the  Muses'  bower: 
Not  without  crest  or  coat,  yet  nameless  now, 

As  one  to  earn  his  spurs,  and  prove  his  power, 
A  candidate  unknown,  with  vizor'd  brow, 
Bearing  no  charge  upon  mine  argent  shield. 
Full  of  young  hopes,  I  dare  the  tented  field ! 

— Not  so:  this  is  no  time  for  measuring  swords; 
Thou  art  no  craven,  though  tby  spirit  yield. 

For  yonder  are  fair  looks,  and  friendly  words: 
Choose  a  more  peaceful  image :  —  here  reveal'd. 

Taste  a  small  sample  of  my  humble  hoards. 


Are  there  no  sympathies,  no  loves  between  us? 

Is  my  hope  vain?  —  I  have  not  vext  thee  long. 
Nor  lent  thee  thoughts  from  GoD  and  good  that  wean  usj 

Nor  given  thee  words  that  warp  from  right  to  wrong: 

And  if,  at  times,  my  too  triumphant  song 
Hath  sccm'd  self-praise, — doth  it  indeed  demean  us, 
That  when  a  man  feels  hotly  at  his  heart 

The  quick  spontaneous  fire  of  thoughts  and  words, 
He  will  not  play  the  hypocrite's  ill  part. 

Flinging  aside  the  meed  bis  mind  affords? 

No !  with  all  gratitude  and  humbleness 
I  claim  mine  own ;  nor  o:m  affect  to  scorn 
A  gift,  of  my  Creator's  goodness  bom, 

His  grace  to  give,  my  pl^ry  to  possess. 


^Ip 


THB   NEW    YEAB. 


3^attenu0,  t\t 


PUBLISHED  IN  1848. 


€^  Mm  '^m. 


The  old  man  he  is  dead,  young  heir, 

And  gone  to  his  long  account; 
Come,  stand  on  his  hearth,  and  sit  in  his  chair, 

And  into  his  saddle  mount! 

The  old  man's  face  was  a  face  to  be  fear'd, 

But  thine  both  loving  and  gay; 
O  who  would  not  choose  for  that  stern  white  beard, 

A  bright  young  cheek  alway? 

The  old  man  he  had  outlived  them  all, 

His  friends,  he  said,  were  gone; 
But  hundreds  are  wassailing  now  in  the  hall, 

And  true  friends  every  one  ! 

The  old  man  moan'd  both  sore  and  long 

Of  pleasures  past,  he  said ; 
But  pleasures  to  come  are  the  young  heir's  song, 

The  living,  not  the  dead ! 

The  old  man  babbled  of  old  regrets, 

Alack !  how  much  he  owed : 
But  the  young  heir  has  not  a  feather  of  debts 

His  heart  withal  to  Ijad  ! 


THE    NEW    YEAB.  191 

The  old  man  used  to  shudder,  and  seem 

Remembering  secret  sin; 
But  the  happy  young  heir  is  as  if  in  a  dream, 

Paradise  all  within! 

Alas!  for  the  old  man, —  where  is  he  now? 

And  fear  for  thyself,  young  heir; 
For  he  was  innocent  once  as  thou, 

As  ruddy  and  blythe  and  fair: 

Reap  wisdom  from  his  furrow'd  face. 

Cull  counsel  from  his  fear; 
0  speed  thee,  young  heir,  in  gifts  and  in  grace. 

And  blessings  on  thee, — New  Year! 


%[Vi  for  %  hstl 

All's  for  the  best!  be  sanguine  and  cheerful, 

Trouble  and  sorrow  are  friends  in  disguise. 
Nothing  but  Folly  goes  faithless  and  fearful. 

Courage  for  ever  is  happy  and  wise: 
All  for  the  best, —  if  a  man  would  but  know  it 

Providence  wishes  us  all  to  be  blest. 
This  is  no  dream  of  the  pundit  'or  poet. 

Heaven  is  gracious,  and  —  All's  for  the  best! 

All  for  the  best!  set  this  on  your  standard. 
Soldier  of  sadness,  or  pilgrim  of  love. 

Who  to  the  shores  of  Despair  may  have  wander'd, 
A  waywearied  swallow,  or  heartstricken  dove; 


ALL'S    FOR    THE    BEST. 

All  for  the  best! — be  a  man  bat  confiding, 
Providence  tenderly  governs  the  rest, 

And  the  frail  bark  of  His  creature  is  guiding 
Wisely  and  warily  all  for  the  best. 

All  for  the  best !  then  fling  away  terrors, 

JMeet  all  your  fears  and  your  foes  in  the  van, 
And  in  the  midst  of  your  dangers  or  errors 

Trust  like  a  child,  while  you  strive  like  a  man : 
All 's  for  the  best !  —  uubiass'd,  unbounded, 

Providence  reigns  from  the  East  to  the  Westj 
And,  by  both  wisdom  and  mercy  surrounded, 

Hope  and  be  happy  that  All's  for  the  bestl 


World  of  sorrow,  care,  and  change, 

Even  to  myself  I  seem, 
As  adown  thy  vale  I  range. 
Wandering  in  a  dream : 
All  things  are  so  strange. 

For,  the  dead  who  died  this  day, 

Fair  and  young,  or  great  and  good, 
Though  we  mourn  them,  where  are  they? 

— With  those  before  the  flood  j 
Equally  past  away! 

Living  hearts  have  scantly  time 

To  feel  some  other  heart  most  dear, 
Scarce  can  love  the  love  sublime 

Unselfishly  sincere, — 
Death  nips  it  in  its  prime! 


THB    BIDDLE    READ.  1$^ 

Mmds  have  hardly  power  to  learn 

How  much  there  is  to  know  aright, 
Can  dimly  through  the  mist  discern 
Some  little  glimpse  of  light, — 
The  order  is.  Return! 

Willing  hands  hut  just  begin 

Wi%ly  to  work  for  God  and  man, 
And  some  poor  wages  barely  win 

As  one  who  well  began, — 
The  Master  calls.  Come  in ! 

Well, —  this  is  well :  for  well  begun 

Is  all  the  good  man  here  may  do. 
He  cannot  hope  to  see  half  done; 

A  furlong  is  crept  through, 
And  lo,  the  goal  is  won ! 

This  is  the  life  of  sight  and  sense. 
And  other  brighter  lives  depend 
On  all  we  here  can  just  commence; 

But  long  before  an  end 
God  calls  his  servant  hence. 

Take  courage,  courage :  not  in  vain 

The  Ruler  hath  appointed  thus; 
Account  it  neither  grief  nor  pain 

His  mercy  sparcth  us  — 
It  is  the  labourer's  gain. 

Here  we  begin  to  love  and  know ; 

And  when  God's  willing  grace  perceives 
The  plant  of  Heav'n  hath  roots  to  grow, 

He  plucks  the  ranker  leaves. 
And  doth  transplant  it  so ! 


IM  OLD    HAUNTS 


(Dill  JDnnnts. 

FOR  HUSIC. 

I  LOVE  to  linger  on  my  track 

Wherever  I  have  dwelt  and  parted, 
In  after  years  to  loiter  back, 

And  feel  as  once  I  felt, — young-hearted  I 
My  foot  falls  lightly  on  the  sward. 

Yet  leaves  a  deathless  dint  behind  it, 
With  tenderness  I  still  regard 

Its  unforgotten  print,  to  find  it! 

Old  places  have  a  charm  for  me 

The  new  can  ne'er  possess,  for  ever, 
Old  faces  —  how  I  long  to  see 

Those  looks  that  here  can  bless  me  never  I 
Yet,  these  are  gone :  —  while  all  around 

Is  changing  with  each  changing  hour, 
I'll  anchor  on  the  solid  ground 

And  root  my  memories  there  in  power  I 


€^1  Mik  Df  Enbia. 

A   MILITARY   BALLAD. 

Ye  children  of  the  veterans 

Who  fought  for  faithless  Spain, 
And  for  ungrateful  Portugal 

Pour'd  out  their  blood  like  rain,- 
Come  near  me,  and  hear  me. 

For  I  would  tell  you  well 
How  gallantly  your  fathers  fought, 

Or  gloriously  they  fell! 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BOLEIA.  195 

I  sing  Roleia's  bloody  strife, 

The  first  of  many  frays, 
When  iron  Wellesley  led  us  on 

Invincible  always; 
Roleia  gay  and  evergreen, 

Festoon'd  with  vines  and  flowers, 
Roleia,  scorch'd  and  blood-bedew'd, — 

And  half  that  blood  was  ours  I 

The  seventeenth  of  August 

It  shone  out  bright  and  clear. 
And  still  we  press'd  the  Frenchman's  flank, 

And  hung  upon  his  rear; 
From  Brilos  and  Obidos 

Had  we  driven  the  bold  Laborde, 
And  now  among  the  mountain  rocks 

We  sought  him  with  the  sword! 

All  golden  is  the  plain  with  wheat, 

All  purple  arc  the  hills 
With  luscious  vineyards  ripe  and  sweet, 

And  laced  with  crystal  rills; 
Yet  must  the  rills  run  down  with  gore, 

The  corn  be  trampled  red. 
Before  Roleia's  threshing-floor 

Is  glutted  with  her  dead! 

0  cheerily  the  bugles  spoke, 

And  all  our  hearts  beat  high 
When  over  Monte  Junto  broke 

The  sun  upon  the  sky; 
Right  early  from  Obidos 

We  gladly  sallied  then 
A  goodly  host,  in  columns  three, 

Of  fourteen  thousand  men. 


^  THE    BATTLE    OV    KOLKIA. 

Brave  Ferguson  led  on  the  leffc, 

And  Trant  the  flanking  right, 
With  iron  Arthur  in  the  midst, 

The  focus  of  the  fight ; 
And  fast  by  Wellesley's  gallant  side 

The  Craufurd  rode  amain. 
And  Hill,  the  British  soldier's  pride, 

And  Nightingale,  and  Fane. 

Crouching  like  a  tiger. 

In  his  high  and  rocky  lair, 
The  Frenchman  howl'd  and  show'd  his  teeth, 

And  —  wish'd  he  wasn't  there; 
For  Craufurd,  Hill,  and  Nightingale 

Flew  at  him  as  he  lay, 
And  up  our  gallant  fellows  sprang 

As  bloodhounds  on  the  prey. 

And  look !  we  hunt  the  bold  Laborde 

To  Zambugeira's  height, — 
While  Trant  with  Fane  and  Ferguson 

Outflank  him  left  and  right  j 
And  then  with  cheers  we  charge  the  front, 

With  cheers  the  foe  reply, — 
No  child's  play  was  that  battle  brunt, 

We  swore  to  win  or  die ! 

Rattled  loud  the  musket's  roar, — 

We  struggled  man  to  man, — 
The  rugged  rocks  were  wash'd  in  gore, 

With  gore  the  gullies  ran ! 
Fiercely  through  those  mountain  paths 

Our  bloody  way  we  force, — 
And  find  in  strength  upon  the  heights 

The  Frenchman,  foot  and  horse: 


THE    BATTLE    OF    EOLEIA,  197 

Ah,  then,  my  Ninth,  and  Twenty-ninth, 

Your  courage  was  too  hot. 
For  down  on  your  disorder'd  ranks 

Secure  they  pour  the  shot; 
But  all  their  horse  and  foot  and  guns 

Could  never  make  you  fly, — 
The  losing  Frenchman  fights  and  runs, 

But  Britons  fight  —  and  die  ! 

Up  to  the  rescue,  Ferguson! 

And  keep  the  hard-fought  hill; 
Their  chiefs  are  pick'd  off,  one  by  one, 

And  lo,  they  rally  still; 
They  rally,  and  rush  stoutly  on, — 

The  bold  Laborde  gives  way, — 
The  day  is  lost !  the  day  is  won ! 

And  ours  is  the  day ! 

Then  well  retreating  sage  and  slow 

Alternately  in  mass 
With  charging  horse,  the  wily  foe 

Gains  Runa's  rocky  pass; 
And  left  us  thus  Roleia's  field, 

With  other  fields  in  store, 
Vimiera,  Torres  Vcdras, 

And  half  a  hundred  more  I 


How  many  years  are  fled, — 
How  many  friends  are  dead : 

Alas,  how  fast 

The  past  hath  past, — 
How  speedily  life  hath  sped! 


^  RETROSPECT. 

Places,  that  knew  me  of  yore, 

Know  me  for  theirs  no  more; 

And  sore  at  the  change 

Quito  strange  I  range 

Whore  I  was  at  home  before. 

Thoughts  and  things  each  day 
Seem  to  be  fading  away; 
Yet  this  is,  I  wot, 
Their  lot  to  be  not 
Continuing  in  one  stay.  tay. 

A  mingled  mesh  it  seems 
Of  facts  and  fancy's  gleams  j 
I  scarce  have  power 
From  hour  to  hour 
To  separate  things  from  dreams. 

Darkly,  as  in  a  glass, 
Like  a  vain  shadow  they  pass; 
Their  ways  they  wend 
And  tend  to  an  end, 
The  goal  of  life,  alas ! 

Alas?  and  wherefore  so, — 
Be  glad  for  this  passing  show; 
The  world  and  its  lust 
Back  must  to  their  dust 
Before  the  soul  can  grow. 

Expand,  my  willing  mind, 
Thy  nobler  life  to  find. 
Thy  childhood  leave 
Nor  grieve  to  bereave 
•  Thine  age  of  toys  behind. 


PEACE    AND    QUIETNESS.  nt' 


iptm  nnil  diluirtes. 

Peace  is  the  precious  atmosphere  I  breathe; 

And  my  calm  mind  goes  to  her  dewy  bower, 
A  trellis  rare  of  fragrant  thoughts  to  wreathe, 

Mingling  the  scents  and  tints  of  every  flower : 
For  pity,  vex  her  not;  those  inner  joys 

That  bless  her  in  this  consecrated  hour. 
Start  and  away,  like  plovers,  at  a  noise, 
Sensitive,  timorous  :  —  0  do  not  scare 

My  happy  fancies,  lest  the  flock  take  wing, 
Fly  to  the  wilderness  and  perish  there! 

For  I  have  secret  luxuries,  that  bring 
Gladness  and  brightness  to  mine  eyes  and  heart, 

Memory,  and  Hope,  and  keen  Imagining, 
Sweet  thoughts  and  peaceful,  never  to  depart. 


Then  give  me  Silence;  for  my  spirit  is  rare, 
Of  delicate  edge  and  tender:  when  I  think, 

I  rear  aloft  a  mental  fabric  fair; 

But  soon  as  words  come  hurtling  on  the  air, 
Down  to  this  dust  my  ruined  fancies  sink : 
Look  you!  on  yonder  Alp's  precipitous  brink 

An  avalanche  is  tottering;  —  one  breath 
Loosens  an  icy  chain; — it  falls, —  it  falls, 

Filling  the  buried  glens  and  glades  with  death ! 

Or  as,  when  on  the  mountain's  granite  walls 
The  hunter  spies  a  chamois, —  hush !  be  calm, 

A  word  will  scare  it, —  even  so,  my  Mind 
Creative,  energizing,  seeks  the  balm 

Of  Quiet:  Solitude  and  Peace  combined. 

14 


200  THE    EABLY    QALLOP. 


€111  tolij  iflllnji. 

(Written  in  the  taddk,  on  the  crovm  of  my  hat.) 

At  five  on  a  dewy  morning, 

Before  the  blazing  day, 
To  be  np  and  oflf  on  a  high-mettled  horse 

Over  the  hills  away, — 
To  drink  the  rich  sweet  breath  of  the  gorse 

And  bathe  in  the  breeze  of  the  Downs, 
Ha !  man,  if  you  can,  match  bliss  like  this 

In  all  the  joys  of  towns ! 

With  glad  and  grateful  tongue  to  join 

The  lark  at  his  matin  hymn. 
And  thence  on  faith's  own  wing  to  spring 

And  sing  with  cherubim  ! 
To  pray  from  a  deep  and  tender  heart, 

With  all  things  praying  anew. 
The  birds  and  the  bees,  and  the  whispering  trees, 

And  heather  bedropt  with  dew, — 
To  be  one  with  those  early  worshippers 

And  pour  the  carol  too! 

Then,  off  again  with  a  slacken'd  rein. 

And  a  bounding  heart  within. 
To  dash  at  a  gallop  over  the  plain, 

Health's  golden  cup  to  win ! 
This,  this  is  the  race  for  gain  and  grace 

Richer  than  vases  and  crowns; 
And  you  that  boast  your  pleasures  the  most 

Amid  the  steam  of  towns. 
Come,  taste  true  bliss  in  a  morning  like  this, 

Galloping  over  the  Downs  1 


ASGOT«  201 

tont: 

June  3,  1847 — when  Hero  won. 

Modern  Olympia!  shorn  of  all  their  pride  — 

The  patriot  spirit,  and  unlucred  praise  — 

Thou  art  a  type  of  these  degenerate  days, 
When  love  of  simple  honour  all  hath  died; 
Oh  dusty,  gay,  and  eager  multitude, 

Agape  for  gold  —  No !  do  not  thus  condemn ; 
For  hundreds  here  are  innocent  and  good. 

And  young,  and  fair,  among  —  but  not  of — them; 
And  hundreds  more  enjoy  with  gratitude 

This  well-eam'd  holiday,  so  bright  and  green: 

Do  not  condemn !  it  is  a  stirring  scene, 
Though  vanity  and  folly  fill  it  up; 

Look  how  the  mettled  racers  please  the  Queen ! 
Ha!  brave  John  Day  —  a  Hero  wins  the  cup  I 


A  BUSY  dream,  forgotten  ere  it  fades, 

A  vapour,  melting  into  air  away. 
Vain  hopes,  vain  fears,  a  mesh  of  lights  and  shades, 

A  chequcr'd  labyrinth  of  night  and  day, 
This  is  our  life;  a  rapid  surgy  flood 

Where  each  wave  hunts  its  fellow;  on  they  press; 
To-day  is  yesterday,  and  hope's  young  bud 

Has  fruited  a  to-morrow's  nothingness: 
Still  on  they  press,  and  we  are  borne  along, 

Forgetting  and  forgotten,  trampling  down 
The  living  and  the  dead  in  that  fierce  throng, 

With  little  heed  of  Heaven's  smile  or  frown, 
And  little  care  for  others'  right  or  wrong, 
So  we  in  iron  selfishness  stand  strong. 


0$  WATERLOO. 


A  BALLAD  FOR  THE  SOLDIXS. 

Thermopylae  and  Cannae 

Were  glorious  fields  of  yore, 
Leonidas  and  Hannibal 

Right  famous  evermore; 
But  we  can  claim  a  nobler  name, 

A  field  more  glorious  too. 
The  chief  who  thus  achieved  for  us 

Victorious  Waterloo. 

Let  others  boast  of  Caesar's  host 

Led  on  by  Caesar's  skill, 
And  how  fierce  Attila  could  rout. 

And  Alaric  could  kill, — 
But  we  —  right  well,  0  hear  me  tell 

What  British  troops  can  do, 
When  marshall'd  by  a  Wellington 

To  win  a  Waterloo ! 

0  for  a  Pindar's  harp  to  tune 

The  triumphs  of  that  day ! 
0  for  a  Homer's  pictured  words 

To  paint  the  fearful  fray !  — 
Alas,  my  tongue  and  harp  ill-strung 

In  feeble  tones  and  few, 
Hath  little  skill  —  yet  right  good-will 

To  sing  of  Waterloo. 

Then  gather  round,  my  comrades, 

And  hear  a  soldier  tell 
How  full  of  honour  was  the  day 

When  —  every  man  did  well  I 


w  A  T  i;  tt  L  o  o .  208 

And  though  a  soldier's  speech  be  rough, 
His  heart  is  hot  and  true  .-•• 

While  thus  he  tells  of  Wellington 
At  hard-fought  Waterloo. 

Sublimely  calm,  our  iron  Duke, 

A  lion  in  his  lair, 
Waited  and  watch'd  with  sleepless  eye 

To  sec  what  France  would  dare, 
Nor  deign 'd  to  stir  from  Brussels 

Until  he  surely  knew 
The  foe  was  rushing  on  his  fate 

At  chosen  Waterloo. 

What?  should  the  hunter  waste  his  strength 

Nor  hold  his  good  hounds  back 
Before  he  knows  they  near  the  foes 

And  open  on  the  track? 
No :  let  "  surprise  "  blight  Frenchmen's  eyes, 

For  truly  they  shall  rue 
The  giant  skill  that,  stern  and  still, 

Drew  them  to  Waterloo. 

Hotly  the  couriers  gallop  up 

To  Richmond's  festive  scene, — 
Alone,  alone  the  chieftain  stood 

Undaunted  and  serene : 
Ready,  ready, —  staunch  and  steady, — 

And  forth  the  orders  flew 
That  march'd  us  off  to  Quatre  Bras, 

And  whelming  Waterloo. 

Begin,  begin  with  Quatre  Bras, 

That  twinborn  field  of  flame, 
Where  many  a  gallant  deed  was  dona 

By  many  a  gallant  name ; 


WATERLOO. 

That  battle-field,  which  seem'd  to  yield 

An  earnest  and  review 
Of  all  that  British  courage  dared 

And  did  at  Waterloo. 

We  heard  from  far  old  Blucher's  guns, 

At  Ligny's  blazing  street, 
And  hurried  on  to  Weimar's  aid, 

Right  glad  the  foe  to  meet; 
A  score  of  miles  to  Quatre  Bras; 

But  still  to  arms  we  stood 
And  cheerly  rush'd  without  a  pause 

To  win  the  Boissy  wood: 

Then,  just  like  cowards,  three  to  one, 

Before  we  could  deploy. 
To  crush  us,  Ney  and  Excelmans 

Flew  down  with  fiendish  joy; 
But  stout  we  stood  in  hollow  squares. 

And  fought,  and  kept  the  ground. 
While  lancer  spears  and  cuirassiers 

Were  charging  us  all  round! 

Ay,  ay,  my  men,  we  battled  then 

Like  wolves  and  bears  at  bay. 
And  thousands  there  among  the  dead 

With  sable  Brunswick  lay : 
And  back  to  back  in  that  attack 

The  ninety-second  fought, — 
And  "steadily"  the  twenty-eighth 

Behaved  as  Britons  ought. 

Then  up  came  Maitland  with  the  guards, 
Hurrah !  they  clear  the  wood ; 

But  still  the  furious  Frenchman  charged, 
And  still  wo  stoutly  stood, 


WATEELOO.  205 

Till  gentle  night  drew  on,  arid  that 

Drew  off  the  treacherous  Ney, 
For  when  the  morning  dimly  broke 

—  The  fox  had  stole  away! 

Thus  much,  my  lads,  for  Quatre  Bras; 

And  now  for  Waterloo, 
Where  skill  and  courage  did  it  all, 

With  God's  good  help  in  view! 
For  we  were  beardless  raw  recruits 

And  they,  more  numerous  far^ 
Were  fierce  mustachioed  mighty  men, 

The  veterans  of  war. 

The  God  of  battles  help'd  us  soon, 

As  godless  France  drew  nigh, 
—  It  was  the  great  eighteenth  of  June, 

The  sun  was  getting  high;  — 
And  suddenly  two  hundred  guns 

At  once  with  thundering  throats 
Peal'd  out  their  dreadful  overture 

In  deep  volcano  notes. 

Then,  by  ten  thousands,  horse  and  foot. 

Came  on  the  foaming  Gaul, 
And  still  with  bristling  front  we  stood 

As  solid  as  a  wall: 
And  stout  Macdonnell's  Hougoumont, 

The  centre  of  the  van. 
Was  storm'd  and  storm'd  and  storm'd  —  in  yaiD; 

—  He  held  it  like  a  man ! 

0  who  can  count  the  myriad  deeds 

That  hundreds  did  in  fight? 
Ponsonby  falls,  and  Picton  bleeds, 

And  —  both  are  quench'd  in  night: 


WATEELOO. 

And  many  a  hero  subaltern 

And  hero  private  too 
Beat  Ajax  and  Achilles  both 

In  winning  Waterloo  I 

What  shall  I  say  on  that  dread  day 

Of  Ferrier  and  his  band? 
Ten  times  he  chased  the  foes  away, 

And  charged  them  sword  in  hand; 
Six  of  those  ten  he  led  his  men 

With  blood  upon  his  brow, — 
And  in  the  eleventh  dropp'd  and  died 

To  live  in  glory  now  I 

Or,  give  a  stave  to  Shaw  the  brave, 

—  In  death  the  hero  sleeps, — 
Hemm'd  by  a  score,  he  knock'd  them  o'er^ 

And  hew'd  them  down  in  heaps; 
Till,  wearied  out,  the  lion  stout 

Beset  as  by  a  pack 
Of  hungry  hounds,  fell  full  of  wounds, 

But  none  upon  his  back ! 

And  Halkett  then  before  his  men 

Dash'd  forward  and  made  prize 
(While  both  the  lines  for  wonderment 

Could  scarce  believe  their  eyes) 
Of  a  gaily-plumed  French  general 

Haranguing  his  array. 
But  Halkett  caught  him,  speech  and  all. 

And  bore  him  right  away! 

Thee  too,  De*  Lancey,  generous  chief. 

For  thee  a  niche  be  found, — 
Wounded  to  death,  he  scorn'd  relief 

Whilst  others  bled  around : 


WATERLOO.  207 

And  D'Oyley  and  Fitzgerald  died, 

Just  as  the  day  was  won, — 
And  Gordon  by  his  general's  side  — 

The  side  of  "Wellington! 

And  Somerset  and  Uxbridge  then 

Gave  each  a  limb  to  death; 
Curzon  and  Canning  cheer'd  their  men 

With  their  last  dying  breath; 
And  gallant  Miller  stricken  sore 

With  fainting  utterance  cries, 
"  Bring  me  my  colours !  wave  them  o'er 

Your  colonel  till  he  dies ! " 

Then  furious  wax'd  the  Emperor 

That  Britons  wouldn't  run, 
"Les  b^tes,  pourquoi  ne  fuient-ils  pas? 

Et  done,  ce  VcUington?" 
But  Vellington  still  holds  his  own 

For  eight  red  hours  and  more, 
"Why  comes  not  Marshal  Blucher  down? 

—  Ha !  —  there's  his  cannon's  roar, — 

"  Up,  guards,  and  at  them  !  charge ! " —  the  word 

Like  forked  lightning  passes. 
And  lance,  and  bayonet,  and  sword 

Rush  on  in  glittering  masses ! 
Back,  back,  the  surging  columns  roll 

In  terrified  dismay. 
And  onward  shout  against  the  rout 

The  conquerors  of  the  day ! 

0  now,  the  tide  of  battle 

Is  turn'd  to  seas  of  blood. 
When  case  and  grape-shot  rattle 

Among  the  multitude, 


a08  WATERLOO. 

And  Fates,  led  on  by  Furies, 

Destroy  the  flying  host, 
And  Chaos  mated  with  Despair 

Makes  all  the  lost  most  lost! 

Woe,  woe!  thou  caitiff-hero, 

Thou  Emperor  —  and  slave, 
Why  didst  not  thou,  too,  nobly  bleed 

With  those  devoted  brave? 
No,  no, —  the  coward's  thought  was  self, 

And  "Suave  qui  peut"  his  cry. 
And  verily  at  Waterloo 

Did  great  Napoleon  die! 

He  died  to  fame,  while  yet  his  name 

Was  on  ten  thousand  tongues 
That  trusted  him,  and  pray'd  to  him 

And  —  cursed  him  for  their  wrongs  I 
0  noble  souls !  Imperial  Guard, 

Had  your  chief  been  but  true, 
Ye  would  have  stood  and  stopp'd  the  rout 

At  crushing  Waterloo! 

Still  as  they  fled  from  Wellington 

To  Blucher's  arms  they  flew; 
These  two  made  up  the  Quatre  Bras 

To  clutch  a  Waterloo ! 
Ha!  Blucher's  Prussian  vengeance 

Was  fully  sated  then. 
When  hated  France  upon  the  field 

Left  forty  thousand  men. 

Thus,  comrades,  hath  a  soldier  told 
What  Wellington's  calm  skill. 

When  help'd  by  troops  of  British  mould 
And  God's  almighty  will, 


"ARE    YOU    A    GREAT    READER?"  209 

Against  a  veteran  triple  force 

On  battle-field  can  do :  — 
Then,  three  times  three  for  Wellington, 

The  Prince  of  Waterloo ! 


"to  linn  a  grrnt  %nhtV' 

I  HOPE  to  ripen  into  richer  wine 

Than  mixt  Falernian;  those  decanter'd  streams 
Pour'd  from  another's  chalice  into  thine 

Make  less  of  wisdom  than  the  scholar  dreams; 
Precept  on  precept,  tedious  line  on  line, 

That  never-thinking,  ever-reading  plan, 

Fashion  some  patchwork  garments  for  a  man, 
But  starve  his  mind:  it  starves  of  too  much  meat, 

An  undigested  surfeit;  as  for  me, 
I  am  untamed,  a  spirit  free  and  fleet 

That  cannot  brook  the  studious  yoke,  nor  be 
Like  some  dull  grazing  ox  without  a  soul, 

But  feeling  racer's  shoes  upon  my  feet 
Before  my  teacher  starts,  I  touch  the  goal. 


I  LEAVE  all  judgments  to  that  better  world 

And  my  more  righteous  Judge:  for  He  shall  tell 

In  the  dread  day  when  from  their  thrones  are  hurl'd 
Each  human  tyranny  and  earthly  spell. 
That  which  alone  of  all  lie  knoweth  well  — 


-    THE    VERDICT. 

The  heart's  own  secret :  He  shall  tell  it  out 
With  all  the  feelings  and  the  sorrows  there, 

The  fears  within,  the  foes  that  hcmm'd  without, 
Neglect  and  wrong  and  calumny  and  care: 
For  He  hath  saved  thine  ev'ry  tearful  pray'r 

In  His  own  lachrymal;  and  noted  down 

Each  unconsider'd  grief  with  tenderest  love  : 

Look  up !  beyond  the  cross  behold  the  crown, 
And  for  all  wrongs  below  all  rights  above! 


<0iitrn3ri[. 

Guernsey!  to  me  and  in  my  partial  eyes 
Thou  art  a  holy  and  enchanted  isle, 
Where  I  would  linger  long,  and  muse  the  while 
Of  ancient  thoughts  and  solemn  memories. 
Quickening  the  tender  tear  or  pensive  smile : 

Guernsey !  —  for  nearly  thrice  a  hundred  years 

Home  of  my  fathers !  refuge  from  their  fears, 
And  haven  to  their  hope,^when  long  of  yore 

Fleeing  Imperial  Charles  and  bloody  Rome, 
Protestant  martyrs,  to  thy  sea-girt  shore 

They  came  to  seek  a  temple  and  a  home. 

And  found  thee  generous, — I  their  son  would  pour 

My  heartfull  all  of  praise  and  thanks  to  thee, 

Island  of  welcomes, —  friendly,  frank,  and  free  I 


all's  bight.  211 


call's  laigiji 

FOR   KUSIC. 

0  NEVER  despair  at  the  troubles  of  life, 

All's  right ! 
In  the  midst  of  anxiety,  peril,  and  strife. 

All's  right  1 
The  cheerful  philosophy  never  was  wrong 
That  ever  puts  this  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue. 
And  makes  it  my  glory,  my  strength,  and  my  song, 

All's  right ! 

The  Pilot  beside  us  is  steering  us  still. 

All's  right! 
The  Champion  above  us  is  guarding  from  ill. 

All's  right! 
Let  others  who  know  neither  Father  nor  Friend 
Go  trembling  and  doubting  in  fear  to  the  end, — 
For  me,  on  this  motto  I  gladly  depend. 

All's  right ! 


-CljB  Cnmiilaiiit  nf  en  ^Jlnrirnt  'Joxiim, 

DISINTERSED  BT   ARCHJEOLOOISTS. 

Two  thousand  years  agone 
They  heap'd  my  battle-grave, 

And  each  a  tear  and  each  a  stone 
My  mourning  warriors  gave; 


THE  COMPLAINT   OF  AN    ANCIENT  BRITON. 

For  I  had  borae  me  well, 

And  fought  as  patriots  fight, 
Till,  like  a  British  chief,  I  fell 

Contending  for  the  right.  « 

Seam'd  with  many  a  wound, 

All  weakly  did  I  lie; 
My  foes  were  dead  or  dying  round, — 

And  thus  I  joy'd  to  die ! 
For  their  marauding  crew 

Came  treacherously  to  kill, — 
The  many  came  against  the  few 

To  storm  our  sacred  hill. 
We  battled,  and  we  bled. 

We  won,  and  paid  the  price, 
For  I,  the  chief,  lay  down  with  the  dead 

A  willing  sacrifice ! 
My  liegemen  wail'd  me  long, 

And  treasured  up  my  bones. 
And  rear'd  my  kist  secure  and  strong 

With  tributary  stones: 
High  on  the  breezy  down. 

My  native  hill's  own  breast. 
Nigh  to  the  din  of  mine  ancient  town, 

They  left  me  to  my  rest. 
I  hoped  for  peace  and  calm 

Until  my  judgment  hour, 
And  then  to  awake  for  the  victor's  palm 

And  patriot's  throne  of  power  1 
And  lo !  till  this  dark  day 

Did  men  my  grave  revere; 
Two  thousand  years  had  posted  away, 

And  still  I  slumber'd  here : 
But  now,  there  broke  a  noise 

Upon  my  silent  home, 
'Twas  not  the  Resurrection  voice 

That  burst  my  turfy  tomb, — 


COMPLAINT    OF    AN    ANCIENT    BRITON.  213 

But  men  of  prying  mind, 

Alas,  my  fellow  men, 
Ravage  my  grave,  my  bones  to  find, 
•     With  sacrilegious  ken  ! 
Mine  honour  doth  abjure 

Your  new  barbarian  race; 
Restore,  restore  my  bones  secure 

To  some  more  sacred  place ! 
With  mattock  and  with  spade 

Ye  dare  to  break  my  rest;    . 
The  pious  mound  is  all  unmade 

My  clan  had  counted  blest: 
Take,  take  my  buckler's  boss. 

My  sword,  and  spear,  and  chain, — 
Steal  all  ye  can  of  this  world's  dross, 

But  —  rest  my  bones  again  ! 
I  know  your  modem  boast 

Is  light,  and  learning's  spread, — 
Learn  of  a  Celt  to  show  them  most 

In  honour  to  the  Dead! 


It  is  the  way  we  go,  the  way  of  life; 

A  drop  of  pleasure  in  a  sea  of  pain, 
A  grain  of  peace  amid  a  load  of  strife, 

With  toil  and  grief,  and  grief  and  toil  again . 
Yea:  —  but  for  this;  the  firm  and  faithful  breast. 

Bolder  than  lions,  confident  and  strong, 
That  never  doubts  its  birthright  to  be  blest, 

And  dreads  no  evil  while  it  does  no  wrong : 


WISDOM. 

This,  this  is  wisdom,  manful  and  serene, 

Towards  God  all  penitence  and  prayer  and  trust, 

But  to  the  troubles  of  this  shifting  scene 

Simply  courageous  and  sublimely  just:         • 

Be  then  such  wisdom  thine,  my  heart  within, — 
There  is  no  foe  nor  woe  nor  grief  but  —  Sin. 


€1111  iBflrt's  IttsImnL 


FOR   MUSIC. 


Go,  leave  me  to  weep  for  the  years  that  are  past, 

For  my  youth,  and  its  friends,  and  its  pleasures  all  dead. 
My  spring  and  my  summer  are  fading  too  fast, 

And  I  long  to  live  over  the  days  that  are  fled; 
It  is  not  for  sorrows  or  sins  on  my  track 

That  I  mournfully  cast  my  fond  yearnings  behind, — 
— Ah  no, — from  affection  I  love  to  look  back, 

It  is  only  my  Heart  that  has  wedded  my  Mind. 

And  still,  let  the  Mind  that  has  married  a  Heart, 

Though  loving,  be  strong  as  a  King  in  his  pride. 
And  evtr  command  that  all  weakness  depart 

From  the  realm  that  he  rules  in  the  soul  of  his  bride; 
For  what,  if  all  time  and  all  pleasures  decay? 

My  Mind  is  myself,  an  invincible  chief, — 
Like  a  child's  broken  toys  are  the  years  past  away. 

And  my  Heart  half-ashamed  has  forgotten  her  grief. 


PBOPnETS.  Hff 

Prophets  at  home, —  I  smile  to  note  ycur  wrongs; 

How  scantly  praised  at  each  ancestral  hearth 
Are  ye,  caress'd  by  million  hearts  and  tongues, 

And  full  of  honours  over  half  the  earth: 
0  petty  jealousies  and  paltry  strife ! 

The  little  minds  that  chronicle  a  birth 
Stood  once  for  teachers  in  the  task  of  lifej 

But,  as  the  child  of  genius  grew  apace, 
Dismay' d  at  his  gigantic  lineaments, 

They  fear'd  to  find  his  glory  their  disgrace, 
His  mind  their  master:  so  their  worldly  aim 
Is  still  to  vex  him  with  discouragements. 
To  check  the  spring-tide  budding  of  his  fame. 
And  keep  it  down,  to  save  themselves  a  name. 


!Slltat-tnrn  znl  C^jjaff. 

My  little  learning  fadeth  fast  away, 

And  all  the  host  of  words  and  forms  and  rules 
Bred  in  my  teeming  youth  of  books  and  schools 
Dwindle  to  less  and  lighter;  night  and  day 
I  dream  of  tasks  undone,  and  lore  forgot. 

Seeming  some  sailor  in  the  "ship  of  fools," 
Some  debtor  owing  what  he  cannot  pay. 
Some  Conner  of  old  themes  rcmembcr'd  not: 
Despise  such  small  oblivion;  'tis  the  lot 

Of  human  life,  amid  its  chance  and  change. 
To  learn,  and  then  unlearn;  to  seek  and  find 

And  then  to  lose  familiars  grown  quite  strange: 
Store  up,  store  wisdom's  com  in  heart  and  mind. 
But  fling  the  chaff  on  every  winnowing  wind. 
15 


216  THE    TRUE    EPICURE. 


How  saidst  thou?  —  Pleasure:  why,  my  life  is  pleasure j 
My  days  are  pleasantness,  my  nights  are  peace: 
I  drink  of  joys  which  neither  cloy  nor  cease, 

A  well  that  gushes  blessings  without  measure. 
Ah,  thou  hast  little  heed  how  rich  and  glad. 

How  happy  is  my  soul  in  her  full  treasure, 
How  seldom  but  for  honest  pity  sad, 
How  constantly  at  calm!  —  my  very  cares 
Are  sweetness  in  my  cup,  as  being  sent; 

And  country  quiet,  and  retired  leisure 

Keep  me  from  half  the  common  fears  and  snares  j 
And  I  have  learnt  the  wisdom  of  content : 

Tea,  and  to  crown  the  cup  of  peace  with  praise 

Both  God  and  man  have  blest  my  works  and  ways. 


A  MAN  of  no  regrets 

He  goes  his  sunny  way, 
Owing  the  past  no  load  of  debts 

The  present  cannot  pay: 
He  wedded  his  first  love 

Nor  loved  another  since; 
He  sets  his  nobler  hopes  above ; 

He  reigns  in  joy  a  Prince  I 

A  man  of  no  regrets. 
He  hath  no  cares  to  vex. 

No  secret  griefs,  nor  mental  nets 
Nor  troubles  to  perplex: 


THE    HAPPY    MAN.  21t 

Forgiveness  to  his  sin, 

And  help  in  every  need, 
Blessings  around,  and  peace  within, 

Crown  him  a  King  indeed  I 

A  man  of  no  regrets, 

Upon  his  Empire  free 
The  sun  of  gladness  never  sets, — 

Then  who  so  rich  as  he  ? 
Yea,  God  upon  my  heart 

Hath  pour'd  all  blessings  down : 
Then  yield  to  Him,  with  all  thou  art, 

Tho  homage  of  thy  crown ! 


HlQH  in  Battle's  antler'd  hall, 
Ancient  as  its  Abbey  wall, 
Hangs  a  helmet,  brown  with  rust, 
Cobweb'd  o'er,  and  thick  in  dust; 
High  it  hangs,  'mid  pikes  and  bows, 
Scowling  still  at  spectral  foes. 
Proud  and  stern,  with  visor  down. 
And  fearful  in  its  feudal  frown. 

When  I  saw,  what  ail'd  thee,  heart, 
Wherefore  should  I  stop,  and  start?  — 
That  old  helm,  with  that  old  crest, 
Is  more  to  rac  than  all  the  rest; 
Battcr'd,  broken,  though  it  be, 
That  old  helm  is  all  to  me. 


218  HERALDIC. 

Yon  black  greyhound  know  I  well: 

Many  a  tale  hath  it  to  tell 

How  in  troublous  times  of  old 

Sires  of  mine,  with  bearing  bold, 

Bearing  bold,  bat  much  mischance, 

Sway'd  the  sword,  or  poised  the  lance, — 

Much  mischance,  desponding  still. 

They  fought  and  fell,  foreboding  ill: 

And  their  scallop,  gules  with  blood, 

Fess'd  amid  the  azure  flood, 

Show'd  the  pilgrim,  slain  afar 

Over  the  sea  in  Holy  War; 

While  that  faithful  greyhound  black 

Vainly  watch'd  the  wild  boar's  track, 

And  the  legend  and  the  name 

Proved  all  lost  but  hope  and  fame, — 

Tout  est  perdu,  fors  I'honneur, 

Mais  "  L'Espoir  est  ma  force "  sans  peur. 


Vanity,  vanity!  dead  hopes  and  fears. 
Dim  flitting  phantoms  of  departed  years. 
Unsatisfying  shadows,  vague  and  cold. 
Of  thoughts  and  things  that  made  my  joys  of  old, 
Sad  memories  of  the  kindly  words  and  ways 
And  looks  and  loves  of  friends  in  other  days, — 
Alas !  all  gone, —  a  dream,  a  very  dream, 
A  dream  is  all  you  are,  and  all  you  seem  I 

0  life,  I  do  forget  thee :  I  look  back. 

And  lo,  the  desert  wind  has  swept  my  track: 

1  stand  upon  this  bare  and  solid  ground. 
And,  strangely  waken'd,  wonder  all  around  j 


T  u  a  £  N  o  s .  211 

How  came  I  here?  and  whence?  and  whither  tend? 

Speak,  friend!  —  if  death  and  time  have  spared  a  friend: 

Behold,  the  place  that  knew  me  well  of  yore 

Knoweth  me  not;  and  that  familiar  floor 

Where  all  my  kith  and  kin  were  wont  to  meet 

Is  now  grown  strange,  and  throng'd  by  other  feet. 

0  soul,  my  soul,  consider  thou  that  spot, 

Root  there  thy  gratitude,  and  leave  it  not; 

Still  let  remembrance,  with  a  swimming  eye. 

Live  in  those  rooms,  nor  pass  them  coldly  by; 

Still  let  affection  cling  to  those  old  days. 

And,  yearning  fondly,  paint  them  bright  with  praise; 

O  once  my  home  —  with  all  thy  blessings  fled, 

0  forms  and  faces  —  gather'd  to  the  dead, 

0  scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow  —  faded  fast ! 

—  How  hollow  sound  thy  footsteps,  ghostlike  Past  ! 

An  aching  emptiness  is  all  thou  art, 

A  famine  hid  within  the  cavem'd  heart 


Thou  changeless  One, —  how  blest  to  have  no  change, — 

Only  with  Thee,  my  God,  I  feel  not  strange : 

Thou  art  the  same  for  ever  and  for  aye, — 

To-morrow  and  to-day  as  yesterday. 

Thou  art  the  same, —  a  tranquil  Present  still; 

There  I  can  hide,  and  bless  Thy  sovereign  will : 

Yea,  bless  Thee,  0  my  Father,  that  Thy  love 

Call'd  in  an  instant  to  the  bliss  above 

From  ills  to  come  and  grief  and  care  and  fear 

Thy  type  to  me,  most  honour'd  and  most  dear! 

O  true  and  tender  spirit,  pure  and  good, 

So  vcxt  on  earth  and  little  understood, 

Thy  gentle  nature  was  not  fit  for  strife, 

But  quail'd  to  meet  the  waking  woes  of  life; 

And  therefore  God  Our  Father  kindly  made 

Thy  sleep  a  death,  lest  thou  shouldst  feel  afraid ! 


220  TH£D£AD. 


€\}t  ©mil. 

A   DIRGE. 

I  LOVE  the  dead! 
The  precious  spirits  gone  before, 
And  waiting  on  that  peaceful  shore 
To  meet  with  welcome  looks 

and  kiss  me  yet  once  more. 

I  love  the  dead! 
And  fondly  doth  my  fancy  paint 
Each  dear  one,  wash'd  from  earthly  taint, 
By  patience  and  by  hope 

made  a  most  gentle  saint. 

0  glorious  dead! 
Without  one  spot  upon  the  dress 
Of  your  ethereal  loveliness, 
Ye  linger  round  me  still 

with  earnest  will  to  bless. 

Enfranchised  dead! 
Each  fault  and  failing  left  behind, 
And  nothing  now  to  chill  or  bind, 
How  gloriously  ye  reign 

in  majesty  of  mind ! 

0  royal  dead ! 
The  resting,  free,  unfetter'd  dead. 
The  yearning,  conscious,  holy  dead, 
The  hoping,  waiting,  calm, 

the  happy  changeless  dead  I 


THEDEAD.  221 

I  love  the  dead! 
And  well  forget  their  little  ill, 
Eager  to  bask  my  memory  still 
In  all  their  best  of  words 

and  deeds  and  ways  and  will.. 

I  bless  the  dead ! 
Their  good,  half  choked  by  this  world's  weeds. 
Is  blooming  now  in  heavenly  meads,  ^ 

And  ripening  golden  fruit 

of  all  those  early  seeds. 

I  trust  the  dead! 
They  understand  me  frankly  now, 
There  are  no  clouds  on  heart  or  brow. 
But  spirit,  reading  spirit, 

answereth  glow  for  glow. 

I  praise  the  dead! 
All  their  tears  are  wiped  away. 
Their  darkness  tum'd  to  perfect  day, — 
How  blessed  are  the  dead, 

how  beautiful  be  they! 

O  gracious  dead ! 
That  watch  me  from  your  paradise 
With  happy  tender  starlikc  eyes. 
Let  your  sweet  influence  rain 

mo  blessings  from  the  skies. 

Yet,  helpless  dead, 
Vainly  my  yearning  nature  dares 
Such  unprcmcditcted  prayers, — 
All  vain  it  were  for  them ; 

as  oven  for  me  theirs. 


?^ 


THE    DEAD. 

Immortal  dead! 
Ye  in  your  lot  are  fix'd  as  fate 
And  man  or  angel  is  too  late 
To  beckon  back  by  prayer 

one  change  upon  your  state. 

0,  godlike  dead, 
Ye  that  do  rest,  like  Noah's  dove, 
Fearless  I  leave  you  to  the  love 
Of  Him  who  gave  you  peace, 

to  bear  with  you  above ! 

And  ye,  the  dead. 
Godless  on  earth,  and  gone  astray, 
Alas,  your  hour  is  past  away, — 
The  Judge  is  just;  for  you 

it  now  were  sin  to  pray. 

Still,  all  ye  dead. 
First  may  be  last  and  last  be  first, — 
Charity  counteth  no  man  curst, 
But  hopeth  still  in  Him 

whose  love  would  save  the  worst 

Therefore,  ye  dead, 
I  love  you,  be  ye  good  or  ill. 
For  God,  our  God,  doth  love  me  still, 
And  you  He  loved  on  earth 

with  love  that  nought  could  chill. 

And  some,  just  dead. 
To  me  on  earth  most  deeply  dear. 
Who  loved  and  nursed  and  blest  me  here, 
I  love  you  with  a  love 

that  casteth  out  all  fear : 


THE    DEAD.  228 


Come  near  me,  Dead! 
In  spirit  come  to  me,  and  kiss, — 
No! — I  must  wait  awhile  for  this: 
A  few,  few  years  or  days, 

And  I  too  feed  on  bliss! 


iin^  jlis  !>lnni[. 

OuTSPAKE  a  nation's  voice, 

Concentred  in  her  king, 
While  cannons  roar,  and  hearts  rejoice. 

And  all  the  steeples  ring: 

Outspake  old  England  then 

By  prelates  and  by  peers: 
By  all  her  best  and  wisest  men. 

Her  sages  and  her  seers  — 

Old  England  and  her  pair 

Of  sisters,  north  and  west, 
The  comely  graces,  fresh  and  fair. 

Who  charm  the  world  to  rest. 

All  honour  to  the  brave ! 

The  living  and  the  dead. 
Who  only  fought  to  bless  and  save, 

And  crush  the  hydra's  head  : 

All  honour  aud  all  thanks 

To  every  mother's  son, 
Saxon,  or  Celt,  or  Gael,  or  Manx, 

Who  fought  with  Wellington ! 


iH'  TUANKS    TO    WELLINGTON. 

Pot  heroes  were  they  all, 

To  conquer  or  to  die, 
By  Ahmednuggra's  bastion'd  wall, 

Or  desperate  Assye: 

And,  heroes  still,  they  strive 
Against  the  dangerous  Dane, 

When  France  stirr'd  up  the  northern  hive, 

To  sting  us  on  the  main : 

# 

All  heroes,  heroes  still. 

For  Lusitania's  right  j 

By  red  Roleia's  hard-fought  hill. 

And  Vimiera's  fight: 

And  stout  the  heroes  stood 

On  Talavera's  day; 
And  wrote  their  conquering  names  in  Dlood, 

At  Salamanca's  fray : 

Still  heroes,  on  they  went 

O'er  Cuidad's  gory  fosse. 
And  stern  Sebastian's  battlement. 

And  thundering  Badajos: 

And,  heroes  ever,  taught 

Old  Soult  to  fly  and  yield. 
Shouting  "Victory"  as  they  fought 

On  red  Vittoria's  field; 

And,  heroes  ay,  they  flew 

To  Orthez,  conquering  yet; 
Until,  at  whelming  Waterloo, 

The  Frenchman's  sun  had  set! 

Then,  thanks!  thou  glorious  chief, 
And  thanks !  ye  gallant  band, 

Who,  under  God,  to  man's  relief 
Stretch'd  out  the  saving  hand: 


TO    AMEEICA. 


III. 


Let  aged  Britain  claim  the  classic  Past, 

A  shining  track  of  bright  and  mighty  deeds, 
For  thee  I  prophesy  the  Future  vast 

Whereof  the  Present  sows  its  giant  seeds : 
Corruption  and  decay  come  thick  and  fiist 

O'er  poor  old  England;  yet  a  few  dark  years, 
And  we  must  die  as  nations  died  of  yore ! 
But,  in  the  millions  of  thy  teeming  shore  — 

Thy  patriots,  sages,  warriors,  saints,  and  seers  — 
We  live  again,  Columbia!  yea,  once  more 

Unto  a  thousand  generations  live, 

The  mother  in  the  child;  to  all  the  West 

Through  Thee  shall  We  earth's  choicest  blessings  giv^ 
Even  as  our  Orient  world  in  Us  is  blest. 


IV. 

Thou  noble  scion  of  an  ancient  root, 

Born  of  the  forest-king !  spread  forth,  spread  forth,- 
High  to  the  stars  thy  tender  leaflets  shoot. 

Deep  dig  thy  fibres  round  the  ribs  of  earth : 

From  sea  to  sea,  from  South  to  icy  North, 

It  must  ere  long  be  thine,  through  good  or  ill, 
To  stretch  thy  sinewy  boughs  :  Go, —  wondrous  child ! 
The  glories  of  thy  destiny  fulfil;  — 

Remember  then  thy  mother  in  her  age, 
Shelter  her  in  the  tempest,  warring  wild, 

Stand  thou  with  us  when  all  the  nations  rage 
So  furiously  together!  —  we  are  one: 

And,  through  all  time,  the  calm  historic  page 
Shall  tell  of  Britain  blest  in  thee  her  son  I 


228  PAIN. 

Delay  not,  sinner,  till  the  hour  of  pain 
To  seek  repentance :  pain  is  absolute. 

Exacting  all  the  body  and  the  brain, 

Humanity's  stem  king  from  head  to  foot: 
How  canst  thou  pray,  while  fever'd  arrows  shoot 

Through  this  torn  targe, —  while  every  bone  doth  ache, 
And  the  scared  mind  raves  up  and  down  her  cell 

Restless,  and  begging  rest  for  mercy's  sake? 
Add  not  to  death  the  bitter  fears  of  hell^ 
Take  pity  on  thy  future  self,  poor  man. 
While  yet  in  strength  thy  timely  wisdom  can, — 

Wrestle  to-day  with  sin ;  and  spare  that  strife 
Of  meeting  all  its  terrors  in  the  van. 

Just  at  the  ebbing  agony  of  life. 


€)^t  '^nntlinrlit 

A  RAGING  throbbing  tooth, —  it  bums,  it  bums! 

Darting  its  fiery  fibres  to  the  brain, 

A  stalk  of  fever  on  a  root  of  pain, 
A  red-hot  coal,  a  dull  sore  cork  by  turns, 
A  poison,  kindred  to  the  viper's  fang, 

Gralling  and  fretting :  ha !  it  stings  again. 

Riving  the  sensitive  nerve  with  keenest  pang. 
Well;  from  this  bitter  let  me  cull  the  sweet, 

For  Goodness  never  did  afflict  in  vain. 
But  wills  that  Pain  should  sit  at  Wisdom's  feet: 
Serve  God  in  pleasant  health;  repent,  and  pray, 

While  the  frail  body  rests  at  grateful  ease; 
And,  sympathise  with  sickness  and  decay, 

Charitable  to  Man :  remember  these. 


NO    SUSBENDEK 


FOR  MUSIC. 

Ever  constant,  ever  true, 

Let  the  word  be,  No  surrender: 
Boldly  dare  and  greatly  do  ! 
This  shall  bring  us  bravely  through, 

No  surrender,  No  surrender! 
And  though  Fortune's  smiles  be  few, 
Hope  is  always  springing  new, 
Stijl  inspiring  me  and  you 

With  a  magic  —  No  surrender  I 

Nail  the  colours  to  the  mast, 

Shouting  gladly,  No  surrender! 
Troubles  near  are  all  but  past  — 
Serve  them  as  you  did  the  last. 
No  surrender.  No  surrender! 
^  Though  the  skies  be  overcast 

^  And  upon  the  sleety  blast 

Disappointments  gather  fast, 
Beat  them  oflF  with  No  surrender  I 

"^  Constant  and  courageous  still, 

Mind,  the  word  is  No  surrender; 
Battle,  though  it  be  uphill, 
Stagger  not  at  seeming  ill, 
jf         ^         No  surrender,  No  surrender! 

•  Hope, —  and  thus  your  hope  fulfil, — 

There's  a  way  where  there's  a  will, 
And  the  way  all  cares  to  kill 
Is  to  give  them  —  No  surrender! 


230  ITEYBR    MINd! 


Mmi  \ml\ 


Soul,  be  strong,  whate'er  betide, 
God  himself  is  guard  and  guide, — 
With  my  Father  at  my  side. 
Never  mind  I 

Clouds  and  darkness  hover  near. 
Men's  hearts  failing  them  for  fear, 
But  be  thou  of  right  good  cheer, 
Never  mind ! 

Come  what  may,  some  work  is  done, 
Praise  the  Father  through  the  Son, 
Goals  are  gain'd  and  prizes  won, 
Never  mind ! 

And  if  now  the  skies  look  black, 
All  the  past  behind  my  back 
Is  a  bright  and  blessed  track; 

Never  mind !  ^, 

s 

Stand  in  patient  courage  still, 
Working  out  thy  Master's  will. 
Compass  good,  and  conquer  ill; 

Never  mindl  X 

Rght,  for  all  their  bullying  boast. 
Dark  temptation's  evil  host, 
This  is  thy  predestined  post; 

Never  mind!  ^ 

Be  then  tranquil  as  a  dove; 
Through  these  thunder-clouds  above 
Shines  afar  the  heaven  of  love; 

Never  mindl 


■%. 


« 
THE    CEOMLECU    DUTUS,    GUERNSEY.  281 

€^t  €xm\n^  h  to;  tenisrii. 

HoABY  relic,  stem  and  old, — 
Heaving  huge  above  the  mould 
Like  some  mammoth,  lull'd  to  sleep 
By  the  magic-murmuring  deep 
Till  those  grey  ^gantio  bones 
Gorgon-time  hath  frown'd  to  stones,— 
Who  shall  tell  thine  awful  tale. 
Massy  Cromlech,  at  "The  Vale?" 

Ruthless  altar,  hungry  tomb ! 
Superstition's  throne  of  gloom, 
Where  in  black  sepulchral  state 
High  the  hooded  Spectre  sate 
Terrible  and  throng'd  by  fears 
Brooding  for  a  thousand  years 
As  a  thunder-cloud  above 
All  that  wretched  men  may  love,— 
Is  there  no  grim  witness  near 
That  shall  whisper  words  of  fear, 
Every  brother's  heart  to  thrill, 
Every  brother's  blood  to  chill. 
While  thy  records  are  reveal'd 
And  thy  mysteries  unscal'd? — 

Lift,  with  Titan  toil  and  pain. 
Lift  the  lid  by  might  and  main, — 
Lift  the  lid  and  look  within 
On  —  this  charnel-house  of  Sin  I 
O  twin  brethren,  how  and  when 
Dwelt  ye  in  this  rocky  den  ? 
Rise,  droad.  martyrs !  for  your  bonos 
Chronicle  these  Cromlech-stones; 
10 


•.t 


282  THECBOMLEOH    DU    TUB,    aUEBNBET 

Bise,  ye  grisly,  ghastly  pair, 

—  Skeletons !  bow  came  ye  there  — 

Kneeling  starkly  side  by  side 

More  like  life  than  those  who  died? 

More  like  life? — 0  what  a  spell 

Of  horror  cowers  in  that  cell ! 

More  like  life! — Alive  they  went 

Into  that  stone  tenement, 

Bound  as  in  religious  ease 

Meekly  kneeling  on  their  knees, 

And  the  cruel  thongs  confined 

All  but  the  distracted  mind 

That  with  terror  raved  to  see 

Woe !  how  slow  such  death  would  bo  '■ 

Woe  !  how  slow  and  full  of  dread : 

Pining,  dying,  but  not  dead, — 

Pining,  dying  in  the  tomb, 

Drown'd  in  gulfs  of  starving  gloom, 

With  corruption,  hideous  fear, 

Creeping  noiselessly  more  near, 

While  the  \'ictims  slowly  died 

Link'd  together  side  by  side 

Till  in  manacled  mad  strife 

Both  had  struggled  out  of  life ! 

Yea :  some  idol  claim'd  the  price 

Of  this  living  sacrifice; 

Some  grim  demon's  dark  high  priest 

Bound  these  slaves  for  Odin's  feast, 

Offering  up  with  rites  of  hell 

Human  pangs  to  Thor  or  Bel !  — 

,  Christians,  ponder  on  these  bones; 

Kneel  around  the  Cromlech-stones: 
Kneel  and  thank  our  God  above 
That  His  name,  His  heart  is  Love: 


THE  CROMLKCU  DU  TUS,  GUERNSEY.     288 

* 

That  His  thirst  is  —  not  for  blood 

But,  for  joy  and  gratitude; 

That  lie  bids  no  soul  be  sad 

But  is  glad  to  make  us  glad;  » 

That  He  loves  not  man's  despair, 

But  delights  to  bless  his  prayer! 


Bil  (f^liiten.     1845. 

My  little  ones,  my  darling  ones,  my  precious  things  of  earth, 
How  gladly  do  I  triumph  in  the  blessing  of  your  birth ; 
How  heartily  for  praises,  and  how  earnestly  for  prayers, 
I  yearn  upon  your  loveliness,  my  dear  delightful  cares ! 

0  children,  happy  word  of  peace,  my  jewels  and  my  gold, 

My  truest  friends  till  now,  and  still  my  truest  friends  when  old, 

1  will  be  everything  to  you,  your  playmate  and  your  guide, 
Both  Mentor  and  Telemachus  for  ever  at  your  side  I 

I  will  be  everything  to  you,  your  sympathising  friend, 

To  teach  and  help  and  lead  and  bless  and  comfort  and  defend; 

0  come  to  me  and  tell  me  all,  and  ye  shall  find  me  true, 
A  brother  in  adversity  to  fight  it  out  for  you ! 

Yea,  sins  or  follies,  griefs  or  cares,  or  young  afiFcction's  thrall, 
Fear  not,  for  I  am  one  with  you,  and  I  have  felt  them  all; 

1  will  be  tender,  just,  and  kind,  unwilling  to  reprove, 
I  will  do  all  to  bless  you  all  by  wisdom  and  by  love. 

My  little  ones,  delighted  I  review  you  aa  ye  stand 
A  pretty  troop  of  fairies  and  young  cherubs  hand  in  hand. 
And  tell  out  all  your  names  to  be  a  dear  familiar  sound 
Wherever  English  hearths  and  hearts  about  the  world  abound. 


m  MY    CHILDREN. 

My  eldest)  of  the  speaking  eyes,  my  Ellin,  nine  years  old, 
Thou  thoughtful  good  example  of  the  loving  little  fold, 
My  Ellin,  they  shall  hear  of  thee,  fair  spirit,  holy  child, 
The  truthful  and  the  well-resolved,  the  liberal  and  the  mild. 

And  thee,  my  Mary,  what  of  thee  ?  —  the  beauty  of  thy  face  ? 
The  coyly-pretty  whims  and  ways  that  ray  thee  round  with  gnice  ? 

—  0  more  than  these;  a  dear  warm  heart  that  still  must  thrill 

and  glow 
With  pure  affection's  sunshine,  and  with  feeling's  overflow  ! 

Thou  too,  my  gentle  five-year  old,  fair  Margaret  the  pearl, 
A  quiet  sick  and  suffering  child,  sweet  patient  little  girl, — 
Yet  gay  withal  and  frolicsome  at  times  wilt  thou  appear, 
And  like  a  bell  thy  merry  voice  rings  musical  and  clear. 

And  next  my  Selwyn,  precious  boy,  a  glorious  young  mind, 

The  sensitive,  the  passionate,  the  noble,  and  the  kind. 

Whose  light-brown  locks  bedropt  with   gold,  and   large  eyes  full 

of  love. 
And  generous  nature  mingle  well  the  lion  and  the  dove. 

The  last,  an  infant  toothless  one,  now  prattling  on  my  knee. 
Whose  bland  benevolent  soft  face  is  shining  upon  me; 
Another  silver  star  upon  our  calm  domestic  sky. 
Another  seed  of  happy  hope,  dropt  kindly  from  on  high. 

A  happy  man, —  be  this  my  praise, —  not  riches,  rank,  or  fame, 
A  happy  man,  with  means  enough, —  no  other  lot  or  name ; 
A  happy  man,  with  you  for  friends,  my  children  and  my  wife, 

—  Ambition  is  o'ervaulted  here  in  all  that  gladdens  life  I 


ADEBTOTLOVE.  286 

%  Srht  of  Im.     1838. 

Thou,  more  than  all  endeared  to  this  glad  heart  * 

By  gentle  smiles,  and  paticnee  under  pain, 
I  bless  my  God,  and  thee,  for  all  thou  art. 

My  crowning  joy,  my  richest  earthly  gain  ! 

To  thee  is  due  this  tributary  strain 
For  all  the  well-observed  kind  oflSces 

That  spring  spontaneous  from  a  heart,  imbued 
With  the  sweet  wish  of  living  but  to  please; 

Due  for  thy  liberal  hand,  thy  frugal  mind, 

Thy  pitying  eye,  thy  voice  for  ever  kind. 
For  tenderness,  truth,  confidence, —  all  these : 

My  heaven-blest  vine,  that  hast  thy  tendrils  twined 
Round  one  who  loves  and  won  thee,  not  unsued, 
Accept  thy  best  reward, —  thy  husband's  gratitude. 


€n  little  (Bllitt.     1837. 

My  precious  babe,  my  guileless  little  girl, — 

The  soft  sweet  beauty  of  thy  cherub  face 
Is  smiling  on  me,  radiant  as  a  pearl 

With  young  intelligence  and  infant  grace: 

And  must  the  wintry  breath  of  life  efiace 
Thy  purity,  fair  snow-drop  of  the  spring? 

Must  evil  taint  thee, —  must  the  world  enthrall 
Thine  innocent  mind,  poor  harmless  little  thing  ? 

Ah,  yes,  thou  too  must  taste  the  cup  of  woe, 

Thy  heart  must  learn  to  grieve,  as  others  do, 
Thy  soul  must  feel  life's  many-pointed  sting: 

But  fear  not,  darling  child,  for  well  I  know 
Whatever  cares  may  meet  thee,  ills  befall. 
Thy  God, — thy  father's  God, — shall  lead  thee  safe  through  all 


2M  ON    THE    BIBTH    OF    LITTLE    MABY. 


dDtt  i^t  ^oirllj  nf  littU  Baq.     1838. 

Lo,  Thou  hast  crown'd  me  with  another  blessing, 

Into  my  lot  hast  dropt  one  mercy  more; — 
All  good,  all  kind,  all  wise  in  Thee  possessing, 

My  cup,  0  bounteous  Giver,  runneth  o'er. 

And  still  Thy  princely  hand  doth  without  ceasing  pour  I 
For  the  sweet  fruit  of  undecaying  love 

Clusters  in  beauty  round  my  cottage  door, 
And  this  new  little  one,  like  Noah's  dove, 

Comes  to  mine  ark  with  peace,  and  plenty  for  my  store. 
0  happy  home,  0  light  and  cheerful  hearth ! 

Look  round  with  me,  my  lover,  friend,  and  wife, 

On  these  fair  faces  we  have  lit  with  life, 
And  in  the  perfect  blessing  of  their  birth, 
Help  me  to  live  our  thanks  for  so  much  heaven  on  earth. 


3^argarrt.     184  0. 

A  SONG  of  gratitude  and  cheerful  prayer 

Still  shall  go  forth  my  pretty  babes  to  greet, 
As  on  life's  firmament,  serenely  fair. 

Their  little  stars  arise,  with  aspects  sweet 
Of  mild  successive  radiance;  that  small  pair, 

Ellin  and  Mary,  having  gone  before 
In  this  affection's  welcome,  the  dear  debt 
Here  shall  be  paid  to  gentle  Margaret: 

Be  thou  indeed  a  Pearl, —  in  pureness,  more 
Than  beauty,  praise,  or  price;  full  be  thy  cup. 
Mantling  with  grace,  and  truth  with  mercy  met. 

With  warm  and  generous  charities  flowing  o'er; 
And  when  the  Great  King  makes  His  jewels  up, 
Shiue  forth,  child-angel,  in  His  coronet! 


TO    LITTLE    8ELWYN.  287 

€n  little  lelnip.     I8i2. 

Not  slender  is  the  triumph  and  the  joy, 

To  know  and  feel  that,  for  his  father's  sake, 
The  world  will  look  with  favour  on  my  boy; 
— On  thee,  my  pretty  little  prattling  son,— 
On  thee !  —  and  that  it  shall  be  thine  to  take 
(With  whatsoever  else  of  this  world's  spoil) 
For  heritage  the  honours  I  have  won. 
Speed  on,  my  second  self,  speed  nobly  on ! 
Forget,  in  good  men's  praise,  the  strife  and  toil 

Which  Folly's  herd  shall  still  around  thee  make 
If  thou  dost  well;  speed  on  in  gifts  and  grace, 

Beloved  of  God  and  man,  even  as  now; 
Speed, —  and  in  both  worlds  win  the  glorious  race, 
Bearing  thy  father's  blessing  on  thy  brow! 


(Dtt  little  Mliam.     18U. 

Look  on  this  babe;  and  let  thy  pride  take  heed, 
Thy  pride  of  manhood,  intellect,  or  fame. 

That  thou  despise  him  not:  for  he  indeed. 
And  such  as  he,  in  spirit  and  heart  the  same. 

Are  God's  own  children  in  that  kingdom  bright 
Where  purity  is  praise, —  and  where  before 
The  Father's  throne,  triumphant  evermore, 

The  ministering  angels,  sons  of  light. 

Stand  unreproved;  because  they  offer  there, 
Mix'd  with 'the  Mediator's  hallowing  prayer, 

The  innocence  of  babes  in  Christ  like  this : 
0  guardian  Spirit,  bo  my  child  thy  care. 

Lead  hira  to  GoD,  obedience  and  bliss, 

To  God,  0  fostering  cherub,  thine  and  his  I 


HENRY    DE    B.    T. 

Itnni  h  %  C    1847. 

Hail  then  a  sixth !  my  doubly  triple  joy, 

Another  blessing  in  a  third-bom  boy, 

Another  soul  by  generous  favour  sent 

To  teach  and  train  for  heaven,  through  content. 

Another  second-self  with  hopes  like  mine 

In  better  worlds  beyond  the  stars  to  shine. 

Another  little  hostage  from  above 

The  pledge  and  promise  of  Our  Father's  love ! 

God  guard  the  babe:  and  cherish  the  youug  child; 

And  bless  the  boy  with  nurture  wise  and  mild; 

And  lead  the  lad;  and  yearn  upon  the  youth; 

And  make  the  man  a  man  of  trust  and  truth; 

Through  life  and  death  uphold  him  all  his  days. 

And  then  translate  him  to  Thyself  with  praise ! 


€^t  Imnllj:  WnWn  /.  C     1848. 

So,  one  by  one,  Thy  jewels  are  made  up 
Ev'n  to  the  perfect  number,  glorious  Lord! 
So,  one  by  one,  ambrosially  pour'd 
These  rills  of  happiness  o'erflow  my  cup. 
Add  yet  this  grace,  Contentment  with  Enough  : 

That,  resting  always  on  Thy  gracious  word. 
My  band  of  innocent  babes,  my  beauteous  band. 
Through  all  the  maze  of  life,  thorny  and  rough. 
To  Thee  in  prayer  continually  given. 
Safely  may  pass  along;  and,  baud -in  hand, 
A  lustrous  company,  a  blessed  seven, 
Pure  as  the  Pleiads,  as  the  Sages  wise, 
With  hearts  commingled  like  the  rainbow  dyes. 

May  shine  together,  heirs  of  earth  and  heaven ! 


EBB  AT  A.  289 

(frrntfl. 

AN   author's  complaint. 

0  FRIENDS  and  brothers,  judge  me  not  unheard; 

Make  not  a  man  oflFender  for  a  word: 

For  often  have  I  noted  seeming  fault 

That  harm'd  my  rhymes,  and  made  my  reasons  halt, 

Whilst  all  that  error  was  some  printer's  sloth, 

Who  scorning  rhyme  and  reason  slew  them  both: 

Be  ye  then  liberal  to  your  far-oflF  friend. 

Where  garbled,  guess  him  j  and  where  maim'd,  amend ; 

Trust  him  for  wit,  when  types  have  marr'd  the  word. 

And  wisdom  too,  where  only  blockheads  err'd. 


A  Reply  to  Longfellovd's  Poem  on  Mars,  in  **  Voicea  of  the  Nights 

Thou  lover  of  the  blaze  of  Mars, 

Come  out  with  me  to-night, 
For  I  havo  found  among  the  stars 

A  name  of  nobler  light. 

Thy  bvjudt  is  of  the  unconquer'd  Mind, 
The  strong,  the  stern,  the  still; 

Mine  of  the  happier  Heart,  resign'd 
To  Wisdom's  holy  will. 

They  call  my  star  by  beauty's  name, 

The  gentle  Queen  of  Love; 
And  look !  how  fair  its  tender  flamo 

Is  flickering  above : 


MO  VENUS. 

0  star  of  peace,  0  torch  of  hope, 
I  hail  thy  precious  ray 

A  diamond  on  the  ebon  cope 
To  shine  the  dark  away. 

Within  my  heart  there  is  no  light 
But  cometh  from  above, 

1  give  the  first  watch  of  the  night 
To  the  sweet  planet,  Love : 

The  star  of  Charity  and  Truth, 
Of  cheerful  thoughts  and  sage, 

The  lamp  to  guide  my  steps  in  Youth 
And  gladden  mine  old  age ! 

0  brother,  yield :  thy  fiery  Mars 
For  all  his  mailed  might 

Is  not  so  strong  among  the  stars 
As  mine,  the  Queen  of  night : 

A  Queen  to  shine  all  nights  away. 
And  make  the  morn  more  clear, 

Contentment  gilding  every  day,— 
— There  is  no  twilight  here  I 

Yes;  in  a  trial  world  like  this 
Where  all  that  comes  —  is  sent, 

Learn  how  divine  a  thing  it  it 
To  smile  and  be  content  I 


THE    WARM    YOUNa    HEART.  241 


''€^  inarm  qnung  Imt." 

FOR  MUSIC. 

A  BEAUTIFUL  face,  and  a  fonn  of  grace 

Were  a  pleasant  sight  to  see, 
And  gold,  and  gems,  and  diadems. 

Right  excellent  they  be : 
But  beauty  and  gold,  though  both  be  untold. 

Are  things  of  a  worldly  mart. 
The  wealth  that  I  prize,  above  ingots  or  eyes. 

Is  a  heart, —  a  warm  young  heart ! 

0  face  most  fair,  shall  thy  beauty  compare 
With  affection's  glowing  light? 

0  riches  and  pride,  how  pale  ye  beside 
Love's  wealth,  serene  and  bright  I 

1  spurn  thee  away,  as  a  cold  thing  of  clay, 
Though  gilded  and  carved  thou  art. 

For  all  that  I  prize,  in  its  smiles  and  its  sighs|y 
Is  a  heart  —  a  warm  young  heart ! 


'^n  (tiMi,  aslffji. 

(From  Kkpttoek.) 

She  slumbers. —  0  blessed  sleep,  rain  from  thy  wings 
Thy  life-giving  balm  on  her  delicate  frame; 

And  send  thou  from  Eden's  ambrosial  springs 

A  few  flashing  drops  of  their  crystallous  flame,— 


242  TOOIDLI,    ASLEEP. 

Then  spread  them,  soft  painter,  upon  her  white  cheek 
Where  sickness  hath  eaten  the  roses  away; 

Love's  gentle  refresher.  Care's  comforter  meek, 

Thou  moon  of  sweet  blessings,  pour  down  the  kind  ray- 

To  smile  on  my  Cidli:  she  slumbers:  be  still, 
Ilush'd  be  thy  soft-flowing  notes,  0  my  lyre. 

Thy  laurels  mine  auger  shall  scathe  and  shall  kill, 
K  idly  thou  waken  my  sleeping  desire. 


Mat 

Bom  at  Wantage,  in  Berkshire,  Oct.  25,  849. 

Come,  every  true-bom  Englishman !  come  Anglo-Saxons  all  I 
I  wake  a  tune  to-day  to  take  and  hold  your  hearts  in  thrall; 
I  sing  The  King,  the  Saxon  king,  the  glorious  and  the  great, 
The  root  and  spring  of  everything  we  love  in  Church  and  State 

'Tis  just  a  thousand  years  to-day, —  Oh  !  years  are  swift  and  brief,—* 

Since  erst  uprose  in  majesty  the  day-star  of  our  Chief, 

Since  Wantage  bred  a  wondrous  child,  whom  God  hath  made  the 

Cause 
Of  half  the  best  we  boast  in  British  liberties  and  laws. 

Last-bom  of  royal  Ethelwolf,  he  left  his  island  home, 
Ulysses-like,  to  study  men  and  marvels  in  old  Rome; 
And,  thence  in  wrath  returning,  overthrew  the  pirate  Dane, 
And,  young  as  Pitt,  at  twenty-two,  began  a  Hero's  reign. 

Oh !  Guthran  swore,  and  Hubba  smote,  and  sturdy  Hinguar  storm'd, 
And  still  like  locusts  o'er  the  land  the  red   marauders  swarm'dj 
But  Alfred  was  a  David,  to  scatter  every  foe, — 
The  shepherd,  psalmist,  warrior,  king,  unblamed  in  weal  and  woe. 


ALFRED.  243 

Ay,  hiding  \rith  the  herdsman,  or  harping  in  the  camp, 
Or  earnestly  redeeming  time  beneath  the  midnight  lamp, 
Or  ruling  on  his  quiet  throne,  or  fighting  in  the  fen. 
Our  Alfred  was  indeed  an  Agamemnon,  king  of  Men ! 

Unshrinking  champion  of  the  Right,  in  patriot  strength  he  stood, — 
Declare  it,  threescore  fields  of  fight !  and  mark  it  down  in  blood : 
TInflinching  chief,  unerring  judge,  he  stoutly  held  the  helm, — 
Tell  out  those  thirty  years  of  praise,  all  Albion's  happy  realm ! 

A  Solomon  for  wisdom's  choice, —  that  he  loved  learninw  well 
Let  Ocf-rd  chimes  with  grateful  voice  from  all  their  turrets  tell; 
A  Numa,  and  Justinian  too,  let  every  parish  sound 
His  birthday  on  the  merry  bells  through  all  the  country  round  I 

A  Nestor,  while  in  years  a  youth,  he  taught  as  Plato  taught, 

A  Constantino,  a  Washington,  he  fought  as  Scipio  fought, 
A  Wellington, — his  laurell'd  sword  with  Peace  was  glory-gilt. 
And  Nelson's  earliest  wooden  walls  of  Alfred's  oaks  were  built  I 

0  gallant  Britons,  bless  the  God  who  gave  you  sucli  a  prince, 
His  like  was  never  known  before,  nor  ever  hath  been  since, 
The  fountain  of  your  liberties,  your  honours  and  your  health. 
The  mountain  of  your  sturdy  sti-eugth,  the  Ophir  of  your  wealth. 

And  now,  arouse  thee.  Royal  Ghost!  in  majesty  look  round; 
On  every  shore,  in  every  clime,  thy  conquering  sons  are  found ; 
By  kingdoms  and  (lominions,  by  continents  and  isles, 
The  Anglo-Saxon  realm  is  ffly  hundred  tliousand  miks  ! 

Ay,  smile  on  us,  and  bless  tis  in  thy  loftiness  of  love, — 
The  name  of  Anglo-Saxon  is  all  other  names  above. 
By  peoples  and  by  nations,  by  tribe  and  sept  and  clan. 
Two  hundred  millions  claim  it  in  the  family  of  Man! 


244  ALFRED. 

They  claim  it,  and  they  claim  thee  too,  their  father  and  their  king ! 
0  mighty  Shade  !  behold  the  crowds  who  claim  thy  sheltering  wing  : 
Thou  hast  o'ershadow'd,  like  an  Alp,  the  half  of  this  broad  earth 
And  where   thy  shadow  falls  is  Light,  and  Anglo-Saxon  worth! 

The  energy,  the  daring,  the  cheerfulness,  the  pride, 
The  stalwarth  love  of  freedom,  with  Religion  well  allied, 
The  trust  in  God  for  ever,  and  the  hope  in  Man  for  time. 
These  characters  they  learnt  of  thee,  and  stand  like  thee  sublime. 

Where'er  thy  gracious  children  come,  a  blessing  there  they  bring. 
The  sweet  securities  of  Home  around  that  place  they  fling. 
Warm  Comfort,  and  pure  Charity,  and  Duty's  bright  blue  eye, 
And  Enterprize,  and  Industry,  are  stars  upon  that  sky ! 

Stout  Husbandry  amid  those  fields  with  soft  Contentment  meets, 
And  honest  Commerce,  early  up,  is  stirring  in  those  streets; 
And  all  the  glories  of  the  sword,  and  honours  of  the  pen, 
Make  us  the  Wonder  of  the  world,  the  Cynosure  of  men ! 

And,  hark !  upon  my  harp  and  tongue  a  sweeter  note  of  praise, 
How  should  a  Saxon  leave  unsung  what  best  he  loves  always? 
0  dearer,  deeper,  nobler  songs  to  thrill  the  heart  and  mind, — 
The  crown  of  womanhood  belongs  to  English  womankind ! 

Young  maiden,  modest  as  the  morn,  yet  glowing   like  the  noon. 
True  wife,  in  placid  tenderness  a  lustrous  silver  moon, 
Dear  mother,  loving  unto  death  and  better  loved  than  life. 
Where  can  the  wide  world  match  me  such  a  mother,  maid,  or  wife  ? 

Fair  Athelswytha,  Alfred's  own,  is  still  your  spirits'  queen. 
The  faithful,  the  courageous,  the  tender,  the  serene, 
The  pious  heroine  of  home,  the  solace,  friend,  and  nurse. 
The  height  of  self-forgetfulness,  the  climax  of  all  verse ! 


ALFRED.  246 

And  now,  Great  Alfred's  countrymen  and  countrywomen  all, — 
Victoria !  Albert !  graciously  regard  your  minstrel's  call ! 
Up,  royal,  gentle,  simple  folk !  up  first,  ye  men  of  Berks ! 
And  give  a  nation's  monument  to  Alfred's  mighty  works ! 

In  Anglo-Saxon  majesty,  simplicity  and  strength, 
0  children,  build  your  Father's  tomb,  for  very  shame  at  length : 
The  birthday  of  your  king  has  dawn'd  a  thousand  times  this  day, 
It  must  not  die  before  you  set  your  seal  to  what  I  say  I 


€^t  Dq  nf  E  (l^jiniisnnii  ^"^msl 

849.    October  25,  1849. 

To-day  is  the  day  of  a  thousand  years ! 
Bless  it,  0  brothers,  with  heart-thrilling  cheers ! 
Alfred  for  ever!  —  to-day  was  He  born, 
Day-star  of  England  to  herald  her  morn, 
That,  everywhere  breaking  and  brightening  soon, 
Sheds  on  us  now  the  full  sunshine  of  noon, 
And  fills  us  with  blessings  in  Church  and  in  State 
Children  of  Alfred,  the  Good  and  the  Great! 
Chorus, —  Hail  to  his  Jubilee  Day, 

The  Day  of  a  thousand  years! 

Anglo-Saxons !  in  love  are  wo  met, 
To  honour  a  name  we  can  never  forget! 
Father,  and  Founder,  and  King  of  a  race 
That  reigns  and  rejoices  in  every  place, — 
Koot  of  a  tree  that  o'ershadows  the  earth, 
First  of  a  Family  blest  from  his  birth. 


246      THE  DAY  OF  A  THOUSAND  YEARS. 

Blest  in  this  stem  of  their  strength  and  their  state, 
Alfred  the  Wise,  and  the  Good,  and  the  Great  I 
Chorus, —  Hail  to  his  Jubilee  Day, 

The  Day  of  a  thousand  years ! 

Children  of  Alfred,  from  every  clime, 
Your  glory  shall  live  to  the  death-day  of  Tiitie ! 
And  then  in  bliss  shall  ever  expand 
O'er  measureless  realms  of  the  Heavenly  Land! 
For  you,  like  him,  serve  God  and  your  Race, 
And  gratefully  look  on  the  birthday  of  Grace. — 
Then  honour  to  Alfred !  with  heart-stirring  cheers ! 
To-day  is  the  day  of  a  thousand  years! 
Chorus, —  Hail  to  his  Jubilee  Day, 

The  Day  of  a  thousand  years! 


I.    (Obverse.) 

In  simple  majesty  serenely  mild. 

By  pain  well  chasten'd,  and  made  wise  through  grief, 
Calm  like  a  king,  while  gentle  like  a  child. 

Yet  firm  as  may  become  the  nation's  chief, 
Alfred!  I  stand  in  thought  before  thee  now. 
And  to  thy  throne  in  duteous  homage  bow, 
After  a  thousand  years !     IMy  soul  is  glad. 

Thus  to  have  roused  to  thankful  thoughts  of  thee, 
From  this  dull  mist  of  modem  base  and  bad, 

The  world  of  Englishmen;  that  haply  we. 
United  now  again,  as  once  thy  will 

Determined,  and  still  mindful  of  thy  worth, 
O  Paragon  of  goodness,  force,  and  skill ! 

Like  thee,  may  b<?  a  blessing  upon  earth. 


THE    ALFRED    MEDALS.  2I7 

II.    (Reverse  1.) 

Thy  children,  King  of  Men !  thy  faithful  ones, 

The  boldly  cheerful,  true  in  head  and  heart, 
Salute  thy  crown  with  reverence  as  thy  sons, 

And  joy  to  see  thee  honour'd  as  thou  art, 
By  millions  everywhere:  behold,  0  King! 

These,  whom  old  England's  laws,  old  England's  tongue 

And  all  the  good  that  of  thy  sowing  sprung 
Have  nourish'd  up  like  thee  in  everything, 

Claim  thee  for  Father;  yea,  yon  untold  host, 
Ever  the  first  to  conquer  and  control. 

Ambassadors  of  truth  to  every  coast. 
And  mercy's  messengers  from  pole  to  pole, 

Thee,  mighty  King,  their  bright  example  boast, 
And  date  their  glories  from  thy  Saxon  soul. 


III.    (Bevebsb  2.) 

Then,  Brothers,  be  at  peace  and  love  each  otheri 

Let  us  contend  for  mastery  no  more, — 
Britain !  Columbia !  lot  the  name  of  brother 

Echo  with  tenderness  from  shore  to  shore : 

We  dare  not  hope  that  alien  wars  are  o'er; 
We  fear  there  yet  must  rage  the  strife  of  tongues; 

The  races  and  religions  of  mankind. 
Mixing  tumultuously  their  rights  and  wrongs. 

Yet  with  the  flesh  will  battle  out  the  mind : 
But  us,  one  speech  unites;  to  us,  one  birth, 

One  altar,  and  one  home,  one  Past  belongs : 
One  glorious  Present  over  all  the  earth; 

One  Future !  hark,  the  strain  prophetic  swelling,- 

Brothers  in  unity  together  dwelling! 
17 


248  SOCRATES    TO    LYSIAS. 


^nrratfs  tn  Xijsios. 

No  !  Lysias !  —  all  that  honied  eloquence 

May  not  be  buttress  to  my  righteous  cause; 
The  majesty  of  Truth  and  Innocence 

Deigns  not  to  hoodwink  nor  to  cheat  the  laws: 
What,  if  my  foe's  benighted  moral  sense 

Will  not,  or  cannot,  see  my  holy  ends? 
To  lure  the  youth  of  Athens  to  all  good, — 

To  knit  mankind  in  one,  a  world  of  friends, — 
To  win  their  worship  from  mere  stone  and  wood. 

And  preach  the  Unknown  God!  —  0  God  of  all, 
Thy  will  be  done !  let  falsehood  work  my  fall, 
Martyr  for  truth  I  rise  !  and  dwell  at  ease ; 

The  only  Advocate  on  whom  I  call 
Is  God  Himself, —  to  plead  for  Socrates! 


0»  THE  ANGLO-SAXON   RACE.      AN  ILLUSTRATION. 

Honour  and  Arms!     The  seals  of  Grace 

upon  this  oriel  glow; 
Arms,  as  when  brothers  may  embrace, 

and  not  to  fight  a  foe ; 
The  arms  of  peace,  heraldic  arms, 

with  blazon  richly  dight, 
Made  gorgeous  with  chivalric  charms, 

and  gilt  with  glory^s  light! 


THE    MEMORIAL    WINDOW. 

Honour  and  Arms!     0  brethren  dear, 

I  see  your  flashing  eyes, 
I  feel  your  true  hearts  hurrying  near 

from  all  outlandish  skies, 
To  bask  one  hour  in  one  dear  spot, 

the  kernel  of  your  love. 
In  poor  old  England  unforgot, 

the  blest  of  God  above  I 

Centre  of  all,  Britannia's  shield 

in  praise  unsullied  shines. 
Rose,  shamrock,  thistle,  round  its  field 

a  wreath  of  beauty  twines; 
Sweet  Erin's  harp  of  melody, 

with  Scotia's  canton  fair. 
And  thine  own  royal  lions  three 

majestic  roaming  there. 

Next,  to  thy  right,  a  mighty  son, 

a  stalwarth  giant  grown, 
A  wanton  and  a  truant  one, 

and  yet  a  child  to  own  I 
The  sturdy  stripes, —  the  glittering  stars, 

long  may  they  blaze  above. 
Not  on  the  bloody  helm  of  Mars, 

but  in  the  crown  of  love  I 

Nearer  thy  heart  another  stands, 

a  twin,  but  one  in  two. 
And  bringing  homage  with  both  hands 

from  one  wide  heart  most  true  j 
Stem  Caledonia's  thistly  praise 

reveals  her  hardy  child. 
Where  Canada's  mild  beaver  strays 

to  stock  the  western  wild. 


260  THE    MEMORIAL    WINDOW. 

Shining  above,  in  oriout  light 

the  morning  sun  upsoars, — 
Hindustan's  elephantine  might 

is  shadow'd  on  those  shores; 
Their  luscious  fruits  of  tropic  toil 

the  sea-girt  Indies  breed, 
And  forth  from  Afric's  southern  soil 

springs  Anglo-Saxon  seed. 

Beneath  our  Britain's  blazon  fair 

Australia's  emu  stands, 
And  kangaroos  are  skipping  there 

on  rich  unpeopled  lands ; 
New  Zealand's  war-boat  paddles  fast; 

and  Borneo's  royal  ship 
Makes  many  a  pirate  scuffling  past 

beware  "the  Badger's"  grip! 

Old  Egbert's  cross  in  golden  light 

is  shining  over  all, 
And,  on  its  right,  no  viper's  bite 

harms  Malta's  holy  Paul; 
While  huge  Gibraltar's  rock  outstands, 

for  bristling  cannon  cleft. 
Like  Hercules  with  Samson's  hands 

to  pillar  up  the  left. 

Below,  with  praise  each  lesser  star 

in  mingled  lustre  smiles, 
The  storm-swept  Falklands  seen  afar 

and  soft  Ionian  Isles, 
With  soft  Sierra's  libell'd  beach, 

and  Mandarin'd  Hong  Kong, 
And  all  who  speak  in  English  speech, 

or  sing  an  English  song. 


THE    MEMORIAL    WINDOW.  iSjJj^ 

0  heralds !  when  and  where  before 

were  Earth's  true  honours  seen, 
In  brightness  and  in  beauty  more 

than  on  this  Gothic  screen  ? 
Where  Britain,  like  a  mother  hen, 

is  gathering  to  her  wings 
The  world  of  Anglo-Saxon  men, 

creation's  priests  and  kings! 


51  €z[[  tn  pn  §mf^mm. 

Daughters  of  poverty,  jaded  and  ill. 

So  vainly  prolonging  the  strife, 
How  scarce  for  to-day,  the  day's  task  to  fulfil, 
And,  as  for  to-morrow,  despondingly  still 

In  dread  of  the  battle  of  life, — 

Toiling  in  pain  for  a  pittance  of  bread. 

Or  starving,  with  nothing  to  do. 
Friendless,  and  fever'd  in  heart  and  in  head, 
And  longing  for  rest  to  lie  down  with  the  dead, 

— A  word,  my  poor  sisters,  with  you! 

There  is  a  fair  land  in  a  sweet  southern  clime, 

Another  young  England  indeed, 
Which  God,  in  His  providence  working  sublime, 
Has  kin4Jy  reserved  till  the  fulness  of  time, 

To  succour  His  children  in  need ; 

A  happy  new  home,  which  He  wills  you  to  seek, 

With  plenty  to  have  and  to  spare, 
And  hope  in  your  bosom,  and  health  on  your  cheek, 
And  human  affections  all  eager  to  speak 

Of  tenderness  waiting  you  there ! 


262  A    CALL    TO    POOR    SEMPSTSES8KS. 

The  valleys  are  rich,  and  the  mountains  are  green, 

And  the  woods  in  magnificent  state 
To  the  distant  horizon  o'ershadow  the  scene, 
Where  never  till  now  Adam's  footstep  has  been, 
And  Eve  is  delaying  so  late. 

Then  haste  for  your  happiness, — joyfully  haste 

From  perils  and  pains  to  be  free; 
For,  Providence  calls  you  to  gladden  the  waste 
And  freedom,  and  plenty,  and  pleasure  to  taste 

In  homes  that  are  over  the  sea. 


^  Cull  tn  tlm  Eitlj. 


(In  aid  of  Mr.  Sydney  Herbert's  exertions  on  behalf  of  distressed 
Needlewomen.) 

0  Cheistian  patriots,  men  of  mighty  heart  I 
One  added  word  to  you :  the  hour  is  ripe ; 

Thousands  are  thronging  eager  to  depart 

From  this  fierce  rivalry  in  mammon's  mart. 
To  happier  shores,  where  penury's  hard  gripe 

On  earth's  rich  zone  is  loosen'd :  hasten  then. 
Pour  out  your  offerings  with  a  liberal  hand. 

Earnest  in  zeal  to  help  your  fellow-men. 

And  from  old  England  this  reproach  to  wipe, 
That,  crowded  up  in  corners  of  the  land. 

Virtuous  toil  can  starve  in  sorrow's  den  ! 

Up!  use  your  wealth  aright;  and  prove  its  worth 
By  generous  aid  to  yonder  homeless  band. 

Who  look  to  you  to  find  them  homes  on  earth. 


OUR    THANKSOIVING    HYMN.  253 

(Dur  ^lianksgimng  Ipn. 

NorEMBEE  15,  1849. 

O  Father  of  mercies,  0  Spirit  of  love, 

O  Son  of  the  Blessed  who  reignest  above. 

Thou  Good  One,  and  Great  One!  in  homage  to  Thee, 

We  bring  the  glad  heart,  and  we  bend  the  true  knee. 

Thy  people  would  praise  Thee,  0  Thou  beyond  praise! 
For  wondrous  in  love  are  Thy  works  and  Thy  ways; 
Thy  children  would  pour  from  the  heart  and  the  voice 
Their  psalm  of  thanksgiving  in  GoD  to  rejoice ! 

Because  Thou  hast  heard  us !  and  answered  the  pray'r 
"We  made  in  the  season  of  death  and  despair; 
Because  over  judgment,  and  terror,  and  pain, 
Thy  mercy  hath  triumph'd,  and  saved  us  again! 

Ah !  well  we  remember  how  dark  and  how  dread 

The  pestilence  brooded  o'er  living  and  dead; 

And  can  we  forget  with  what  mercy  and  might 

The  prayer  which  Thou  blcssest  hath  scatter'd  the  blight ! 

Yet  more !  for  the  fulness  of  plenty  and  peace 
Hath  made  us  in  wealth  as  in  health  to  increase, 
And  so  would  we  thank  Thee,  because  ^hou  bast  given 
The  fatness  of  earth,  and  the  favour  of  heaven ! 

Then,  Father  of  mercies,  accept  what  we  bring, — 
Our  incense  of  praise  to  the  Saviour  and  King ! 
Hosannah  !  —  to  Thee  let  us  gratefully  live, — 
Hallelujah !  —  0  Lord,  when  Thou  hearest,  forgive. 


ACCEPTABLE    THANKS. 
A  SEQUEL  TO   "  OUR  THANKSGIVING  HYMN." 

Thanksgiving  !  0  brothers,  how  pleasant  a  thing 

It  is  the  glad  anthem  to  raise 
In  deep  adoration  of  Heaven's  High  King, 

So  far  above  blessing  and  praise ! 

Thanksgiving!  0  children  of  God  in  all  ranks, 

How  then  shall  we  worthily  give 
A  holy  oblation,  acceptable  thanks, 

To  Him  in  whose  favour  we  live  ? — 

By  penitence,  patience,  contentment,  and  prayer, 

By  peace  upon  earth  and  goodwill. 
By  speeding  the  woes  of  affliction  to  share, 

And  hasting  the  hungry  to  fill: 

By  making,  as  masters,  this  Thanksgiving  Day 

A  holiday,  happy  and  true. 
Not  meanly  withholding  the  journeyman's  pay, 

But  giving  it  all  as  his  due! 

By  bringing  an  Englishman's  home  to  the  poor, 
A  home  of  clean  comfort,  and  peace; 

By  driving  disease  and  despair  from  his  door. 
And  maktbg  his  hardships  to  cease : 

By  Water,  and  Air, —  the  free  bounties  of  Heaven; 

By  wise  recreation  and  rest; 
By  fairly  earn'd  wages  ungrudgingly  given 

For  Labour, —  the  honest  man's  test ! 


ACCEPTABLE    THANKS.  255 

0  thus,  if  the  rich  for  the  poor  man  will  move 

To  better  his  home  and  his  hearth, — 
0  thus,  if  the  poor  his  rich  brother  will  love, 

And  honour  his  betters  on  earth, — 

Then  God  will  be  pleased!  and  this  Thanksgiving  Day 

Will  indeed  be  a  Summer  of  days, 
For  Man  will  be  gladden'd  by  Man  as  he  may. 

And  God  by  acceptable  praise ! 


-31/0  a  ijnnng  ^nrt. 

FROM   PETRARCH. 

Sloth  and  the  sensual  mind  have  driven  away 

All  virtues  from  the  world :  where'er  I  range, 

I  note  on  every  side  an  evil  change; 
Our  steps  are  now  unlit  by  heavenly  ray : 
The  poet,  walking  in  his  crown  of  bay. 

Is  pointed  at — for  scorn;  the  selfish  herds 
Of  mammon-worshippers  insulting  say 

"  What  is  the  worth  of  all  these  metred  words  ? 
Your  crowns  of  bay  and  myrtle  are  but  leaves:" 

And  so  Philosophy  goes  starved  and  lone, 
And  Vice  is  glad,  while  widow'd  Virtue  grieves : 

Still,  be  not  thou  dishcarten'd,  generous  one. 
Follow  that  path,  which  enter'd  ne'er  deceives. 

But  leads  if  not  to  Gain,  to  Glory's  throne. 


SM  CONFESSION. 

€ulmm, 

Alas,  how  many  vain  and  bitter  things 

My  zeal,  and  pride,  and  natural  haste  have  wrought; 

Yea,  thou  my  soul,  by  word  and  deed  and  thought, 
The  curse  of  selfishness  hath  scorch 'd  thy  wings: 

There  is  a  fire  within,  I  feel  it  now, 
A  smouldering  mass  of  strong  imaginings 

That  heat  my  heart,  and  biirn  upon  my  brow, 
And  vent  their  hissing  lava  on  my  tongue 

Scathing,  unsparing:  —  yet,  my  will  is  just, 
My  wrath  is  ever  quickened  by  a  wrong, 

I  flame  —  to  strike  oppressors  to  the  dust. 
To  crush  the  cruel,  and  confound  the  base, 

To  welcome  insolence  with  calm  disgust. 

And  brand  the  scoffer's  forehead  with  disgrace. 


NoTHiNQ  of  thee  shall  perish,  rare  old  Man! 

Thou  art  an  heirloom  to  the  world  and  usj 

Let  even  me  then  bring  my  homage  thus. 
And  greet  thee  with  such  greeting  as  I  can : 

For  thou  art  not  thine  own;  the  nations  claim 
Thee  for  their  children's  children,  veteran, 
A  spirit  walking  in  immortal  fame, 

The  friend  of  Memory :  Death  is  none  of  thine, 
Nor  Self,  the  death  of  soul;  thou  wilt  not  spurn 
An  acolyte,  whose  venturous  footsteps  turn 

Out  of  the  track  to  offer  at  thy  shrine: 
Because,  Italian  suns  and  classic  skies 

Have  ripen'd  all  thy  heart  blood  into  wine 
Excellent,  spiritual,  pure  and  wise. 


A    SONG.  ^j 


%  long. 

Ah  Memory !  why  reproach  me  so 

With  shadows  of  the  past, 
The  thrilling  hopes  of  long  ago 

That  came  and  went  so  fast? 
Ye  tender  tones  of  that  dear  voice, 

Ye  looks  of  those  loved  eyes, — 
Return, — and  bid  my  heart  rejoice. 

For  true  love  never  dies! 

Rejoice  ?  —  0  word  of  hope  !  I  may 

When  those  indeed  return; 
For  looks  and  tones  so  past  away 

In  solitude  I  yearn ! 
Let  others  fancy  I  forget 

The  light  of  those  dear  eyes, — 
I  love, —  0  how  I  love  thee  yet! 

For  true  love  never  dies. 


FOR   MUSIC. 

Never  go  gloomily,  man  with  a  mind! 
Hope  is  a  better  companion  than  fear, 
Providence,  ever  benignant  and  kind, 

Gives  with  a  smile  what  you  take  with  a  tear; 
All  will  be  right. 
Look  to  the  light, — 
Morning  is  ever  the  daughter  of  night. 
All  that  was  black  will  be  all  that  is  bright, 
Cheerily,  cheerily  then !  cheer  up  I 


258  GHEXB    up! 

Many  a  foe  is  a  friend  in  disguise, 

Many  a  sorrow  a  blessing  most  true, 
Helping  the  heart  to  be  happy  and  wise 
With  lore  ever  precious  and  joys  ever  new; 
Stand  in  the  van, 
Strive  like  a  man ! 
This  is  the  bravest  and  cleverest  plan, 
Trusting  in  GoD,  while  you  do  what  yoa  can. 
Cheerily,  cheerily  then !  cheer  up  1 


FOR    HUSIC. 

The  elm-tree  of  old  felt  lonely  and  cold 

When  wintry  winds  blew  high, 
And,  looking  below,  he  saw  in  the  snow 

The  ivy  wandering  nigh : 
And  he  said.  Come  twine  with  those  tendrils  of  thine 

My  scathed  and  frozen  form, 
For  heart  and  hand  together  we'll  stani 

And  mock  at  the  baffled  storm. 

Ha,  ha !  Together. 

And  so  when  grief  is  withering  the  leaf 

And  checking  hope's  young  flower. 
And  frosts  do  bite  with  their  teeth  so  white 

In  disappointment's  hour, 
""'.'.■  ugh  it  might  overwhelm  either  ivy  or  elm 

If  alone  each  stood  the  strife, 
If  heart  and  hand  together  they  stand 

They  may  laugh  at  the  troubles  of  life. 
Ha,  ha!  Together. 


V£I£NDS.  tik 

I  CANNOT  move  a  mile  upon  this  earth, 

I  could  not,  did  I  walk  from  end  to  end, 
But  there  I  find  a  heart  of  wit  and  worth. 

Some  gracious  spirit  to  be  hail'd  a  friend  : 
0  there  are  frequent  angels  unawares, 

And  many  have  I  met  upon  my  way, 
Kind  Christian  souls,  to  make  me  rich  with  prayers, 

Whilst  in  like  coin  their  mercies  I  repay  j 
And  oft  the  sun  of  praise  hath  lit  mine  ey^es, 

Generous  praise  and  just  encouragement, 
From  some  who  say  I  help  them  to  be  wise. 

And  teach  them  to  be  happy  in  content: 
Ah  soul,  rejoice !  for  thou  hast  thickly  sown 
The  living  world  with  friendships  all  thine  own. 


Forgotten  !  —  not  forgotten,  kind  good  man. 

Though  seldom  fully  prized  at  thy  great  worth, — 
I  will  embalm  thy  memory  as  I  can. 

And  send  this  blessing  to  the  ends  of  earth ! 
For  thou  wert  all  things  kindly  unto  all. 

Benevolent  and  liberal  from  birth, 
Ever  responsive  to  affection's  call 

And  full  of  care  for  others, —  full  of  care  — 
Weary  with  others'  burdens,  generous  heart, 

And  yet  thine  own  too  little  strong  to  bear: 
Father!  I  owe  thee  all,  and  cannot  pay 

The  happy  debt,  until  I  too  depart; 
Then,  will  I  bless  and  love  it  all  away 

In  that  bright  world,  my  Father,  where  thou  art  I 


260  Horace's  paiLOSOPHT. 


Inrnrt'ff  3|^liilnsnp!it[. 

"Wisely  for  us  within  night's  sable  veil 
God  hides  the  future;  and,  if  man  turn  pale 
For  dread  distrusting,  laughs  their  fear  to  scorn. 

For  thee,  the  present  calmly  order  well: 
All  else  as  on  a  river's  tide  is  borne, 
Now  flowing  peaceful  to  the  Tuscan  sea 

Down  the  mid-channel  on  a  gentle  swell, 
Now,  as  the  hoarse  fierce  mandate  of  the  flood 
Stirs  up  the  quiet  stream,  time-eaten  rocks 
Go  hurrying  down,  with  houses,  herds,  and  flocks, 
And  echoes  from  the  mountain  and  the  wood. 
He  stands  alone,  glad,  self-possess' d,  and  free, 
Who  grateful  for  to-day  can  say,  I  live; 
To-morrow  let  my  Father  take  or  give; 

As  He  may  will,  not  I  —  with  dark  or  light 

Let  God  ordain  the  mon-ow,  noon  or  night. 

He,  even  He,  can  never  render  vain 

The  past  behind  me;  nor  bring  back  again 

What  any  transient  hour  has  once  made  fact. 

Fortune,  rejoicing  in  each  cruel  act, 

And  playing  frowardly  a  saucy  game. 

Dispenses  changeful  and  uncertain  fame. 

Now  kind  to  me,  and  now  to  some  beside. 

I  praise  her  here;  but  if  it  should  betide 

She  spreads  her  wings  for  flight,  I  hold  no  more 

The  good  she  gave,  but  in  mine  honest  worth 

Clad  like  a  man,  go  honourably  forth 
To  seek  the  undowried  portion  of  the  poor. 

Horace,  lib.  iii.  29. 


THE    LAST    TIME.  281 


"  CjiB  last  €m" 

Another  year  ?  another  year ! 

Who  dare  depend  on  other  years? 
The  judgment  of  this  world  is  near, 

And  all  its  children  faint  for  fears: 
Famine,  pestilence,  and  war, 

Mixt  with  praises,  prayers,  and  tears, 
Civil  strife  and  social  jar, 

Spurr'd  by  pen,  and  stirr'd  by  sword, 
Herald  Him  who  comes  from  far 
In  Elijah's  fiery  car, 

Our  own  returning  Lord  ! 

Look  around, —  the  nations  quail ! 

All  the  elements  of  ill 
Crowd  like  locusts  on  the  gale 

And  the  dark  horizon  fill: 
Woe  to  earth,  and  all  her  seed ! 

Woe  they  run  to  ruin  still :  — 
He  that  runneth  well  may  read 

Texts  of  truth  the  times  afford. 
How,  in  earth's  extremest  need 
Cometh,  cometh  soon  indeed 

Oar  own  redeeming  Lord  I 

Lo,  the  marvels  passing  strange 
Every  teeming  minute  brings; 

Daily  turns  with  sudden  change 
The  kaleidoscope  of  things; 

But  the  Ruler,  just  and  wise. 
Orders  all,  as  King  of  kings, — 

Hark  I  His  thunders  shake  the  skies, 


262  "  T  H  E    L  A  S  T    T  I  M  E  ." 

Lo !  His  vials  are  outpour'd ! 
Earth  in  bitter  travail  lies 
And  creation  groans  and  cries 

For  our  expected  Lord  ! 

Stand  in  courage,  stand  in  faith  I 

Tremble  not  as  others  may; 
He  that  conquers  hell  and  death 

Is  the  friend  of  those  who  pray: 
And  in  this  world's  destined  woe 

He  will  save  his  own  alway 
From  the  trial's  furnace  glow, — 

Till  the  harvest  all  is  stored, 
Rescued  from  each  earthly  foe, 
And  the  terrible  ones  below 

By  our  avenging  Lord  ! 

Yea,  come  quickly!     Saviour,  come! 

Take  us  to  thy  glorious  rest. 
All  thy  children  yearn  for  home. 

Home,  the  heaven  of  thy  breast ! 
Help,  with  instant  gracioiis  aid! 

That  in  just  assurance  blest 
We  may  watch, — nor  feel  afraid, 

Every  warning  in  thy  word. 
Signs  and  tokens  all  array'd 
In  proof  of  that  for  which  we  pray*d, 

The  coming  of  the  Lord! 


OERA  LDIN  E. 

A  SEQUEL  TO  COLERIDGE'S  CHRISTABEL. 
(Publuhed  in  1838.) 


PART  I. 

BKIKa  THE    THIRD  OF  CHRISTABXL. 

Ix  is  the  wolf,  on  stealthy  prowl, 

Hath  startled  the  night  with  a  dismal  howl; 

It  is  the  raven,  whose  hoarse  croak 

Comes  like  a  groan  from  the  sear  old  oakj 

It  is  the  owl,  whose  curdling  screech 

Hath  peopled  with  terrors  the  spectral  beech! 

For  again  the  clock  hath  toU'd  out  twelve. 

And  sent  to  their  gambols  the  gnome  and  the  elve. 

And  awoken  the  friar  his  beads  to  tell, 

And  taught  the  magician  the  time  for  his  spell, 

And  to  her  caldron  hath  hurried  the  witch. 

And  aroused  the  deep  bay  of  the  mastiff-bitch. 

The  gibbous  moon,  all  chilling  and  wan. 
Like  a  sleepless  eyeball  looketh  on. 
Like  an  eyeball  of  sorrow  behind  a  shroud 
Forth  looketh  she  from  a  torn  grey  cloud, 
Pouring  sad  radiance  on  the  black  air, — 
Sun  of  the  night, —  what  sees  she  there? 

O  lonely  one,  O  lovely  one, 
What  dost  thou  hero  in  the  forest  dun, 
18 


264  OERALDINE. 

Fair  truant, —  like  an  angel  of  light 
Hiding  from  heaven  in  deep  midnight? 
Alas!  there  is  guilt  in  thy  glittering  eye 
As  fearfully  dark  it  looks  up  to  the  sky; 
Alas!  a  dull  unearthly  light 
Like  a  dead  star,  bluely  white, 
A  seal  of  sin,  I  note  it  now, 
Flickers  upon  thy  ghastly  brow; 
And  about  the  huge  old  oak 
Thickly  curls  a  poisonous  smoke. 
And  terrible  shapes  with  evil  names 
Are  leaping  around  a  circle  of  flames, 
And  the  tost  air  whirls,  storm-driven, 
And  the  rent  earth  quakes,  charm-riven,— 
And  —  art  thou  not  afraid? 

All  dauntless  stands  the  maid 
In  mystical  robe  array'd. 
And  still  with  flashing  eyes 
She  dares  the  sorrowful  skies, 
And  to  the  moon,  like  one  possest. 

Hath  shown, —  0  dread !  that  face  so  fair 
Should  smile  above  so  shrunk  a  breast, 

Haggard  and  brown,  as  hangeth  there, — 
0  evil  sight!  —  wrinkled  and  old. 
The  dug  of  a  witch,  and  clammy  cold, — 
Where  in  warm  beauty's  rarest  mould 

Is  fashion'd  all  the  rest; 
0  evil  sight!  for,  by  the  light 
From  those  large  eyes  streaming  bright, 
By  thy  beauty's  wondrous  sheen. 
Lofty  gait  and  graceful  mien. 
By  that  bosom  half  reveal'd, 
Wither'd,  and  as  in  death  congeard, 
By  the  guilt  upon  thy  brow, 
Ah  I  Geraldine,  'tis  thou ! 


QERALDINE.  266 

Muttering  wildly  through  her  set  teeth, 
She  seeketh  and  stirreth  the  demons  beneath, 
And  —  hist!  —  the  magical  mandate  is  spoken, 
The  bonds  of  the  spii-its  of  evil  are  broken. 
There  is  a  rush  of  invisible  wings 
Amid  shrieks,  and  distant  thunderings. 
And  now  one  nearer  than  others  is  heard 
Flapping  this  way,  as  a  huge  sea-bird, 
Or  liker  the  deep-dwelling  ravenous  shark 
Cleaving  thorough  the  waters  dark, — 

It  is  the  hour,  the  spell  hath  power! 
Now  haste  thee,  ere  the  tempest  lour,^- 

Her  mouth  grows  wide,  and  her  face  falls  in, 

And  her  beautiful  brow  becomes  flat  and  thin. 

And  sulphurous  flashes  blear  and  singe 

That  sweetest  of  eyes  with  its  delicate  fringe, 

Till,  all  its  loveliness  blasted  and  dead, 

The  eye  of  a  snake  blinks  deep  in  her  head; 

For  raven  locks  flowing  loose  and  long 

Bristles  a  red  mane,  stiff  and  strong, 

And  sea-green  scales  are  beginning  to  speck 

Her  shrunken  breasts,  and  lengthening  neck; 

The  white  round  arms  are  sunk  in  her  sides,— 

As  when  in  chrysalis  canoe 
A  may-fly  down  the  river  glides. 

Struggling  for  life  and  liberty  too, — 
Her  body  convulsively  twists  and  twirls, 
This  way  and  that  it  bows  and  curls. 
And  now  her  soft  limbs  melt  into  one 
Strangely  and  horribly  tapering  down. 
Till  on  the  burnt  grass  dimly  is  seen 
A  serpent-monster,  scaly  and  green, 
Horror!  —  can  this  be  Geraldine? 


Sfi6  OEBALDINE. 

Haste,  0  haste,— 'tis  almost  past. 
The  sand  is  dripping  thick  and  fast. 
And  distant  roars  the  coming  blast, — 

Swiftly  the  dragon-maid  unroll'd 
The  bumish'd  strength  of  each  sinewy  fold, 
And  round  the  old  oak  trunk  with  toil 
Hath  wound  and  trailed  each  tortuous  coil. 
Then  with  one  crush  hath  splitten  and  broke 
To  the  hollow  black  heart  of  the  sear  old  oak ! 

The  hour  is  fled,  the  spell  hath  sped; 
And  heavily  dropping  down  as  dead. 
All  in  her  own  beauty  drest. 
Brightest,  softest,  loveliest. 
Fair  faint  Geraldine  lies  on  the  ground. 
Moaning  sadly; 
And  forth  from  the  oak 
.^   In  a  whirl  of  thick  smoke 
Grinning  gladly, 
Leaps  with  a  hideous  howl  at  a  bound 
A  squat  black  dwarf  of  visage  grim. 
With  crutches  beside  each  twisted  limb 
Half  hidden  in  many  a  flame-colour'd  rag,— 
It  is  Ryxa  the  Hag! 

Ho,  ho!  what  wouldst  thou,  daughter  mine. 
Wishes  three,  or  curses  nine? 
Wishes  three  to  work  thy  will. 
Or  curses  nine  thy  hate  to  fulfil? 

Ryxa,  spite  of  thy  last  strong  charm, 
Some  pure  spirit  saves  from  harm 
^      Her,  who  before  me  was  loved  too  well, 
Our  holy  hated  Christabel; 


QEEALDINE.  267 

Her,  who  'stole  my  heart  from  him 
One  of  the  guardian  cherubim 
Hovers  around,  and  cheers  in  dreams, 
Thwarting  from  heaven  my  hell-bought  schemes; 
Now, —  for  another  five  hundred  years, 

0  mother  mine,  will  I  be  thine, 
To  writhe  in  pains,  and  shriek  in  fears, 
And  toil  in  chains,  and  waste  in  tears, 
So  thy  might  will  scorch  and  smite 

The  beautiful  face  of  Christabel, 
And  will  drain  by  jealous  pain 

Love  from  the  heart  of  Christabel, 
And  her  own  betrothed  knight, 
0  glad  sight!  shall  scorn  and  slight 

The  pale  one  he  hath  loved  so  well, 
While  in  my  arms,  by  stolen  charms 
And  borrow'd  mien,  for  Grcraldine 
He  shall  forget  his  Christabel! 

• 
It  is  done,  it  is  done,  thy  cause  is  won  1 

Quoth  Ryxa  the  Hag  to  Geraldine; 
Thus  have  I  prest  my  seal  on  thy  breast. 
Twelve  circling  scales  from  a  dragon's  crest, 
And  still  thy  bosom  and  half  thy  side 
Must  shrivel  and  shrink  at  eventide. 
And  still,  as  every  Sabbath  breaks. 
Thy  large  dark  eyes  must  blink  as  a  snake's. 
Now,  for  mine  aid;  —  De  Vaux  will  come 
To  lead  his  seeming  daughter  home. 
Therefore  I  fit  thee  a  shape  and  a  face 
Difiering,  yet  of  twin-bom  grace. 
That  all  who  see  thee  may  fall  down 
Heart- worshippers  before  thy  throne. 
Forgetting  in  that  vision  sweet 
Thy  former  tale  of  dull  deceit, 


a££ALDINE. 

And,  tranced  in  deep  oblivious  joy, 

Bask  in  bliss  without  alloy : 

He  too,  thou  lovest,  in  thine  arms 

Shall  grace  the  triumph  of  thy  charms, 

While  the  thirst  of  rage  thou  satest 

In  the  woes  of  her  thou  hatest. 

Yet,  daughter,  hark!  my  warning  mark! 

Hallow'd  deed,  or  word,  or  thought. 

Is  with  deadliest  peril  fraught; 

And  if,  where  true  lovers  meet 

Thou  hearest  hymning  wild  and  sweet, 

0  stop  thine  ears,  lest  all  be  marr'd, — 

Beware,  beware  of  holy  bard ! 

For  that  the  power  of  hymn  and  harp 

Thine  innermost  being  shall  wither  and  warp. 

And  the  same  hour  they  touch  thine  ears, 

A  serpent  thou  art  for  a  thousand  years. 

Hush!  how  heavily  droops  the  night 

In  sultry  silence,  calm  as  death ! 
Gloomy  and  hot,  and  yet  no  light. 

Save  where  the  glowworm  wandereth; 
For  the  moon  hath  stolen  by, 
Mantled  in  the  stormy  sky. 
And  there  is  a  stillness  strange. 
An  awful  stillness,  boding  change, 
As  if  live  nature  held  her  breath. 
And  all  in  agony  listeneth 
Some  terror  undefined  to  hear. 
Coming,  coming,  coming  near; 
Hush'd  is  the  beetle's  drowsy  hum, 
And  the  death-watch's  roll  on  his  warning  drum, 
Hush'd  the  raven,  and  screech  owl. 
And  the  famishing  wolf  on  his  midnight  prowl, — 
Silent  as  death. 


QERALDINE.  269 

—  Hark,  hark !  he  is  here,  he  has  come  from  afar, 

The  black-robed  storm  in  his  terrible  car; 

Vivid  the  forked  lightning  flashes. 

Quick  behind  the  thunder  crashes, 

Clattering  hail,  a  shingly  flood,  • 

Rattles  like  grapeshot  in  the  woodj 

And  the  whole  forest  is  bent  one  way, 

Bowing  as  slaves  to  a  tyrant's  sway. 

While  the  foot  of  the  tempest  hath  trampled  and  broke 

Many  a  stout  old  elm  and  oak  ! 

And  Geraldine?  —  0  who  could  tell 

That  thou  who  by  sweet  Christabel 

Softly  liest  in  innocent  sleep. 

Like  an  infant's  calm  and  deep, 

Smiling  faintly,  as  it  seems 

From  thy  bright  and  rosy  dreams. 

Who  could  augur  thou  art  she 

That,  around  the  hollow  tree. 

With  bad  charm  and  hellish  rite 

Shook  the  heavens  and  scared  the  night  P*^ 

Alas!  for  gentle  Christabel, 
Alas!  for  wasting  Christabel: 
From  evil  eye,  and  powers  of  hell. 
And  the  strong  magic  of  the  spell, 
Holy  Mary,  shield  her  well! 


The  murderer's  knife  is  a  fearful  thing, 
But  what,  were  it  edged  with  a  scorpion's  sting  f 
A  dagger  of  glass  hath  death  in  its  stroke. 
But  what,  should  venom  gush  out  as  it  broke? 


GBBALDINE. 

And  hatred  in  a  man's  deep  heart 

Festereth  there  like  the  barb  of  a  dart, 

Maddening  the  fibres  at  every  beat, 

And  filling  its  caverns  with  fever-heat; 

But  jealous  rage  in  a  woman's  soul 

Simmers  and  steams  as  a  poison-bowl; 

A  drop  were  death,  but  the  rival  maid 

Must  drain  all  dry,  e'er  the  passion  be  stay'd; 

It  floodeth  the  bosom  with  bitterest  gall, 

It  drowneth  the  young  virtues  all. 

And  the  sweet  milk  of  the  heart's  own  fountain, 

Choked  and  crush'd  by  a  heavy  mountain, 

All  curdled,  and  harden'd  and  blacken'd,  doth  shrink 

Into  the  fossil  sepia's  ink: 

The  eye  of  suspicion  deep  sunk  in  the  head 

Shrinks  and  blinks  with  malice  and  dread, 

And  the  cheek  without  and  the  heart  within 

Are  blister'd  and  blighted  with  searing  sin, 

Till  charity's  self  no  more  can  trace 

Aught  that  is  lovely  in  feature  or  face; 

But  the  rose-bud  is  canker' d,  and  shall  not  bloom, 

Corruption  hath  scented  the  rich  perfume. 

The  angel  of  light  is  a  demon  of  gloom. 

And  the  bruise  on  his  brow  is  the  seal  of  his  doom! 

Ah  I  poor  unconscious  rival  maid. 

How  drearily  must  thou  sicken  and  fade 

In  the  foul  air  of  that  Upas-shade  ! 

Her  heart  must  be  tried,  and  trampled,  and  torn 
With  fear,  and  care,  and  slander,  and  scorn; 
Her  love  must  look  upon  love  estranged. 
Her  eye  must  meet  his  eye,  how  changed, 
Her  hand  must  take  his  hand  unpressing, 
Her  hope  must  die,  without  confessing; 


GERALDINE.  271 

And  still  she'll  strive  her  love  to  smother, 

While  in  the  triumphs  of  another 

The  shadow  of  her  joys  departed 

Shall  scare  and  haunt  her  broken-hearted; 

And  he,  who  once  loved  her,  his  purest,  his  first, 

Must  hate  her  and  hold  her  defiled  and  accurst, 

Till,  wasted  and  desolate,  calumny's  breath 

Must  taint  with  all  guilt  her  innocent  death. 


fart  II. 

UUItt   TBI  YOUBTB   07   0ESI8TABIL 

How  fresh  and  fair  is  mom ! 

The  dewbeads  dropping  bright 
Each  humble  flower  adorn. 

With  coronets  of  light. 
And  jewel  the  rough  thorn 

With  sparks  of  chrysolite, — 
How  beautiful  is  mom ! 

Her  scatter'd  gems  how  bright  1 

There  is  a  quiet  gladness 

In  the  waking  earth. 
Like  the  face  of  sadness 

Lit  with  chasten'd  mirth; 
There  is  a  mine  of  treasure 

In  those  hours  of  health, 
Filling  up  the  measure 

Of  creation's  wealth. 

The  eye  of  day  hath  opcn'd  grey, 

And  the  gallant  sun 
Hath  trick'd  his  beams  by  Rydal's  streams, 

And  waveless  Coniston; 


flif'  OERALDINB. 

From  Langdale  Pikes  his  glory  etrikes, 

From  heath  and  giant  hill, 
From  many  a  taim,  and  stone-built-caim, 

And  many  a  mountain  rill: 
HelvcUyn  bares  his  forehead  black, 
And  Eagle-crag  and  Saddleback, 
And  Skiddaw  hails  the  dawning  day 
And  rolls  his  robe  of  clouds  away. 

Ho,  warder,  ho !  in  chivalrous  state, 

A  stranger-knight  to  the  castle  gate, 

With  trumpet,  and  banner,  and  mailed  men, 

Comes  this  way  winding  up  the  glen : 

His  visor  is  down,  and  he  will  not  proclaim 

To  the  challenge  within  his  lineage  or  name, 

Yet  by  his  herald,  and  esquires  eight. 

And  five-score  spearmen,  tall  and  straight, 

And  blazon  rich  with  bearings  rare. 

And  highbred  ease,  and  noble  jur. 

And  golden  spurs,  and  sword,  can  he  be 

Nought  but  a  knight  of  high  degree ! 

Alas!  they  had  loved  too  soon,  too  well, 

Young  Amador  and  Christabel; 

Life's  dawn  beheld  them,  blythe  and  bland, 

Little  playmates,  hand  in  hand, 

Over  fell  and  field  and  heather 

Wandering  innocent  together. 

Alone  in  childhood's  rosy  hours 

Straying  far  to  find  wild  flowers; 

Life's  sun  above  its  eastern  hill 

Saw  them  inseparable  still 

In  the  bower,  or  by  the  brook, 

Or  spelling  out  the  monkish  book, 


QERALDINE.  278 

Or  as  with  songs  they  wont  to  wake 

The  echoes  on  the  hill-bound  lake, 

Or  as  with  tales  to  while  away 

The  winter's  night,  or  summer's  day; 

Life's  noon  was  blazing  bright  and  fair, 

To  smile  upon  the  same  fond  pair, 

The  handsome  youth,  the  beauteous  maid, 

Together  still  in  sun  or  shade; 

Wanner,  good  sooth,  than  wont  with  friends, 

While  he  supports,  and  she  depends. 

As  to  some  dangerous  craggy  height 

They  climb  with  terror  and  delight, 

Nor  guess  that  the  strange  joy  they  feel, 

The  rapture  making  their  hearts  reel. 

Springs  from  aught  else  than  —  sweet  Grasmere, 

Or  hill  and  valley  far  and  near. 

Or  Derwent's  banks  and  glassy  tide, 

Lowdore,  or  hawthorn'd  Ambleside: 

Nor  reck  they  what  dear  danger  lies 

In  gazing  on  each  other's  eyes; 

On  her  bright  cheek,  fresh  and  fair, 

Blooming  in  the  mountain  air. 

On  his  strong  and  agile  limbs. 

As  from  rock  to  rock  he  climbs. 

Her  unstudied  natural  grace, 

Looscu'd  vest  and  tresses  flowing. 
Or  his  fine  and  manly  face 

With  delighted  ardour  glowing. 

Thus  they  grew  up  in  each  other; 

Till  to  ripen'd  youth 
They  had  grown  up  for  each  other; 

Yet,  to  say  but  sooth, 
She  had  not  loved  him,  as  other 

Than  a  sister  doth, 
And  he  to  her  was  but  a  brother, 

With  a  brfttlicr's  froth  i 


S74  OEBALDINE. 

But  selfish  craft,  that  slept  so  long, 
And,  if  wrong  were,  had  done  the  wrong, 
Now,  just  awake,  with  dull  surprise 

Bead  the  strange  truth. 
And  from  their  own  accusing  eyes 

Condemn'd  them  both, — 
That  they,  who  only  for  each  other 

Gladly  drew  their  daily  breath. 
Now  must  curb,  and  check,  and  smother. 

Through  all  life,  love  strong  as  death; 
While  the  dear  hope  they  just  have  learnt  to  prize, 

And  fondly  cherish. 
The  hope  that  in  their  hearts  deep-rooted  lies, 

Must  pine  and  perish ! 
For  the  slow  prudence  of  the  worldly  wise 
In  cruel  coldness  still  denies 
The  foundling  youth  to  woo  and  win 
The  heiress  daughter  of  Leoline. 

And  yet  how  little  had  he  err'd, 
That  on  his  ear  the  bitter  word 

Of  harsh  reproach  should  fall, — 
"Is  it  then  thus,  ungrateful  boy. 
Thou  wouldst  his  dearest  hope  destroy 

Who  lent  thee  life  and  all? 
Why  did  I  save  thee,  years  agone, 
Beneath  the  tottering  Bowther-stone, 

Misfortune's  outcast  son? 
Why  did  I  warm  thee  on  my  hearth. 
Nor  crush  the  viper  in  its  birth, 

0  thou  presumptuous  one?" 

They  met  once  more  in  sweet  sad  fear 
At  the  old  oak-tree  in  the  forest  drear, 
And,  as  enamour'd  of  bitterness,  they 
Wept  the  sad  hour  of  parting  away : 


(}  K  R  A  L  D I  N  E .  276 

The  bursting  tear,  the  stifled  sob, 

The  tortured  bosom's  first-felt  throb, 

The  fervent  vow,  the  broken  gold, 

Their  hapless  hopes  too  truly  told; 

For,  alas !  till  now  they  never  had  known 

How  deep  and  how  strong  their  loves  had  grown. 

But  just  as  they  sip  the  full  cup  of  the  heart, 

It  is  dash'd  from  the  lip, —  and  they  must  part  I 

Alas,  they  had  loved,  yet  never  before 

The  wealth  of  love  had  counted  o'er. 

And  just  as  they  find  the  treasure  so  great, 

It  is  lost,  it  is  sunk  in  the  billows  of  fate. 

Yea,  it  must  be  with  a  fearful  shock 

That  the  pine  can  be  torn  from  its  root-clasp'd  rock, 

Or  the  broad  oak-stump  as  it  stands  on  the  farm 

Be  rent  asunder  by  strength  of  arm; 

So,  when  the  cords  of  love  are  twined 

Among  the  fibres  of  the  mind. 

And  kindred  souls  by  secret  ties 

Mingle  thoughts  and  sympathies, 

0  what  a  wrench  to  tear  in  twain 

Those  that  are  loved  and  love  again, — 

To  drag  the  magnet  from  its  pole. 

To  chain  the  freedom  of  the  soul, 

To  freeze  in  ice  desires  that  boil, 

To  root  the  mandrake  from  the  soil, 

With  groans,  and  blood,  and  tears,  and  toil  I    ^ 

He  is  gone  to  the  land  of  the  holy  war, 
The  sad,  the  brave  young  Amador, 
Not  to  return, —  by  Leoline's  oath. 
When  all  in  wrath  he  bound  them  both, 
Not  to  return, — by  that  last  kiss. 
Till  name,  and  fame,  and  fortune  are  his. 


OER  ALDINE. 

Ay,  he  is  gone:  —  and  with  him  went, 

As  into  chosen  banishment, 

The  bloom  of  her  cheek,  and  the  light  of  her  eye, 

And  the  hope  of  her  heart,  so  near  to  die : 

He  is  gone,  o'er  Paynim  lands  to  roam. 

But  leaves  his  heart,  his  all,  at  home; 

And  years  have  glided,  day  by  day. 

To  watch  him  warring  far  away. 

Where,  upon  Gideon's  hallowed  banks 

His  prowess  hath  scatter'd  the  Saracen  ranks. 

And  the  Lion-king  with  his  own  right  hand 

Hath  dubb'd  him  knight  of  Holy-Land : 

The  crescent  waned  wherever  he  came. 

And  Christendom  rung  with  his  deeds  of  fame, 

And  Saladin  trembled  at  the  name 

Of  Amador  de-Ramothaim. 

He  hath  won  him  in  battle  a  goodly  shield. 

Three  wild  boars  Or  on  an  azure  field, 

"While  scallop-shells  three  on  an  argent  fess 

Proclaim  him  a  pilgrim  and  knight  no  less; 

Enchased  in  gold  on  his  helmet  of  steel 

A  deer-hound  stands  on  the  high-plumed  keel, 

Hafiz  his  hound,  who  hath  rescued  his  life 

From  the  wily  Assassin's  secret  knife, 

Hafiz  his  friend,  whom  he  loveth  so  well 

As  the  last  gift  of  Christabel: 

And  over  his  vizor,  and  round  his  arm, 

Jf^  graved  on  his  sword  as  a  favourite  charm. 

And  on  his  banner  emblazon'd  at  length. 

Love's  motto,  "Hope  is  all  my  strength." 

0  then,  with  how  much  pride  and  joy, 
And  hope,  which  fear  could  scarce  alloy. 
With  heart  how  leaping,  eye  how  bright, 
And  fair  cheek  flnsh'd  with  deep  delight, 


OEBALDINE.  277 


Heard  Christabel  the  wafted  story 
Of  her  far-oflF  lover's  glory; 

For  her  inmost  soul  knew  well 
That  he  hoped  and  spake  and  thought 

Only  of  his  Christabel, 
That  he  lived  and  loved  and  fought 

Only  for  his  Christabel: 
So,  she  felt  his  honour  hers, 
His  welfare  hers,  his  being  hers, 

And  did  reward  with  rich  largesse 
The  stray  astonish'd  messengers 

Who  brought  her  so  much  happiness! 

— Behold!  it  is  past, —  that  many  a  yearj 
The  harvest  of  her  hope  is  near; 
Behola  I  it  is  come, —  behold  him  here ! 
Yes,  in  pomp  and  power  and  pride, 
And  joy  and  love  how  true,  how  tried, 
He  comes  to  claim  his  long-loved  bride; 
Her  own  true  knight,  0  bliss  to  tell, 
Her  Amador  she  loves  so  well 
Returns  for  his  sweet  Christabel ! 

He  leapt  the  moat,  the  portal  past, 
He  flung  him  from  his  horse  in  haste, 

And  in  the  hall 
He  met  her !  but  how  pale  and  wan  I  — 
He  started  back,  as  she  upon 

His  neck  would  fall; 
He  started  back, —  for  by  her  side 
(0  blessed  visio'n !)  he  espied 

A  thing  divine,-^ 
Poor  Christabel  was  lean  and  white, 
But  oh,  how  soft,  and  fair,  and  bright, 

Was  Geraldine ! 


QEBALDINE. 

Fairer  and  brighter,  as  he  gazes 
All  celestial  beauty  blazes 

From  those  glorious  eyes, 
And  Amador  no  more  can  brook 
The  jealous  air  and  peevish  look 

That  in  the  other  lies  I 

Alas,  for  wasting  Christabel, 

Alas,  for  stricken  Christabel, — 

How  had  she  long'd  to  see  this  day, 

And  now  her  all  is  dash'd  away ! 

How  many  slow  sad  years,  poor  maid. 

Had  she  for  this  day  wept  and  pray'd, 

And  now  the  bitterest  tears  destroy 

That  honied  hope  of  cherish'd  joy, 

For  he  hath  ceased, —  0  withering  thought} 

With  burning  anguish  fully  fraught, — 

To  love  his  Christabel ! 
Her  full  heart  bursts,  and  she  doth  fall 
Unheeded  in  her  father's  hall, 
And,  oh,  the  heaviest  stroke  of  all. 

By  him  she  loves  so  well. 

0  save  her,  Mary  Mother,  save ! 
Let  not  the  damnM  sorceress  have 

Her  evil  will; 
0  save  thine  own  sweet  Christabel, 
Thy  saint,  thine  innocent  Christabel, 

And  guard  her  still  I 


OERALDINE.  2ff 


Cnnrlttstnu  to  ]^flrt  IL 


Fob  it  doth  mark  a  godlike  mind, 

Prudence,  and  power,  and  truth  combined, 

A  rare  self-steering  moral  strength. 

To  over-love  the  dreary  length 

Of  ten  successive  anxious  years, 

Unwarp'd  by  hopes,  untired  by  fears; 

Still,  as  every  teeming  hour 

Glides  away  in  sun  or  shower. 

Though  the  pilgrim  foot  may  range, 

The  heart  at  home  to  feel  no  change, 

But  to  live  and  linger  on. 

Fond  and  warm  and  true  —  to  one ! 

0  love  like  this,  in  life's  yoimg  spring, 

Is  a  rare  and  precious  thing; 

A  pledge  that  man  hath  claims  above, 

A  sister-twin  to  martyrs'  love, 

A  shooting-star  of  blessed  light 

Glancing  on  the  world's  midnight, 

A  drop  of  sweet,  where  all  beside 

Is  bitterest  gall  in  life's  dull  tide. 

One  faithful  found,  where  all  was  lost, 

An  Abdiel  in  Satan's  host! 

To  love,  unshrinking  and  unshaken. 
Albeit  by  all  but  hope  forsaken. 
To  love,  through  slander,  craft,  and  fear, 
And  fairer  faces  smiling  near. 
Through  absence,  stirring  scenes  among, 
And  harrowing  silence,  suffering  long. 
Still  to  love  on, —  and  pray  and  weep 
For  that  dear  one,  while  others  sleep, 
19 


OERALDINE. 

To  dwell  upon  each  precious  word 

Which  the  charm'd  ear  in  whispers  heard, 

To  treasure  up  a  lock  of  hair, 

To  watch  the  heart  with  jealous  care. 

To  live  on  a  remcmber'd  smile, 

And  still'  the  wearisome  days  beguile 

With  rosy  sweet  imaginings 

And  all  the  soft  and  sunny  things 

Look'd  and  spoken,  ere  they  parted. 

Full  of  hope,  though  broken-hearted, — 

0  there  is  very  virtue  here. 

Retiring,  holy,  deep,  sincere, 

A  self-poised  virtue,  working  still 

To  compass  good,  and  combat  ill, 

Which  none  but  worldlings  count  earth-bom, 

And  they  who  know  it  not,  can  scorn. 

Ah  yes,  let  common  sinners  jeer. 
And  Mammon's  slaves  suspect  and  sneer, 
"While  each  idolator  of  pelf 
Judging  from  his  gross-hearted  self 
Counts  Love  no  purer  and  no  higher 
Than  the  low  plot  of  base  desire;  — 
Let  worldly  cunning  nurse  its  dreams 
Of  happiness,  from  selfish  schemes 
By  heartless  hungry  parents  plann'd, 
Of  wedded  fortune,  rank,  and  land, — 
There  is  more  wisdom,  and  more  wealth, 
More  rank  in  being,  more  soul's  health, 
la  wedded  love  for  one  short  hour. 
Than  lifelong  wedded  pelf  and  power  I 
Yes,  there  is  virtue  in  these  things ; 
A  balm  to  heal  the  scorpion-stings 
That  others'  sins  and  sorrows  make 
In  hearts  that  still  cr.n  weep  and  ache; 


QERALDINE.  281 


There  is  a  heavenly  influence, 

A  secret  spiritual  fence, 

Circling  the  soul  with  present  power 

In  temptation's  darkest  hour, 

Walling  it  round  from  outward  sin. 

While  all  is  soft  and  pure  within. 


fart  IIL 


SCCfO  THI  FIRH  AND  UST  OF  CnRISTABTL. 

Hast  thou  not  seen,  world-weary  man, 
Life's  poor  pilgrim  white  and  wan, — 
A  gentle  beauty  for  the  cheek 

Which  nothing  gives  but  sorrow, 
A  sweet  expression,  soft  and  weak, 

Joy  can  never  borrow  ? 
Where  lingering  on  the  pale  wet  fece 
The  rival  tears  run  their  slow  race 

Each  in  its  wonted  furrow; 
And  patience,  eloquently  meek, 

From  the  threaten'd  stroke  unshrinking 
In  mild  boldness  can  but  speak 

The  burden  of  its  sadden 'd  thinking, — 
"Dreary  as  to-day  has  been, 
And  sad  and  cheerless  yestereen, 

'Twill  dawn  as  dark  to-morrow  I" 

Desolate  hearted  Christabel, 
Hapless,  hopeless  Christabel, — 
24* 


282  QEBALDINE. 

NighUy  tears  have  dimm'd  the  lustre 

Of  thy  blue  eyes,  once  so  bright, 
And,  as  when  dank  willows  cluster 

Weeping  over  marble  rocks, 
O'er  thy  forehead  white 

Droop  thy  flaxen  locks: 
Yet  art  thou  beautiful,  dear  girl, 

As  angels  in  distress. 
Yea,  comforting  the  soul,  fair  pearl, 

With  thy  loveliness; 
For  thy  beauty's  light  subdued 

Hath  a  soothing  charm 
In  sympathy  with  all  things  good 

That  weep  for  hate  and  harm; 
And  none  can  ever  see  unmoved 

Thy  poor  wet  face,  with  sorrow  white, 
0  none  have  seen,  who  have  not  loved. 

The  sadly  sweet  religious  light 
That  doth  with  pearly  radiance  shine 
From  those  sainted  eyes  of  thine. 

A  trampling  of  hoofs  at  the  cullice-port, — 
A  hundred  horse  in  the  castle-court! 
From  border-wastes,  a  weary  way. 

Through  Halegarth  wood  and  Knorren  moor, 
A  mingled  numerous  array 
On  panting  palfreys  black  and  grey 

With  foam  and  mud  bespatter'd  o'er 
Hastily  cross  the  flooded  Irt, 
And  rich  Waswater's  beauty  skirt, 
And  Sparkling-Taim,  and  rough  Scathwaite, 
And  now  that  day  is  dropping  late. 
Have  passed  the  drawbridge  and  the  gate. 

By  thy  white  flowing  beard,  and  reverend  mieOy 
And  gilded  harp,  and  chaplet  of  green, 


OERALDINE 

And  milk-white  mare  in  the  castle-yard, 
Welcome,  glad  welcome  to  Bracy  the  bard*. 
And,  by  thy  struggle  still  to  hide 
This  generous  conquest  of  thy  pride. 
More  than  by  yon  princely  train, 

And  blazon'd  banner  standing  near. 
And  snorting  steed  with  slacken'd  rein, — 

Hail,  0  too  long  a  stranger  here. 
Hail,  to  Langdale's  friendly  hall, 
Thou  noble  spirit,  most  of  all, 
Roland  de  Vaux  of  Tryermaine  I 

Like  aspens  tall  beside  the  brook 
The  stalwart  warriors  stood  and  shook 
And  each  advancing  fear'd  to  look 

Into  the  other's  eye; 
'Tis  fifty  years  ago  to-day 
Since  in  disdain  and  passion  they 
Had  flung  each  other's  love  away 

"With  words  of  insult  high; 
How  had  they  long'd  and  pray'd  to  meet  I 
But  memories  cling;  and  pride  is  sweet; 
And  —  which  could  be  the  first  to  greet 

The  haply  scornful  other? 
What  if  De  Vaux  were  haughty  still, — 
Or  Leoline's  unbridled  will 
Consented  not  his  rankling  ill 

In  charity  to  smother? 

Their  knees  give  way,  their  faces  are  pale, 
And  loudly  beneath  the  corslets  of  mail 
Their  aged  hearts  in  generous  heat 
Almost  to  bursting  boil  and  beat; 
The  white  lips  quiver,  the  pulses  throb, 
They  stifle  and  swallow  the  rising  sob, — 


S84  QERALDINE. 

And  there  they  stand,  faint  and  unmann'd, 

As  each  holds  forth  his  bare  right  hand! 

Yes,  the  mail-clad  warriors  tremble, 

All  unable  to  dissemble 

Penitence  and  love  confest, 

As  within  each  aching  breast 

The  flood  of  afiection  grows  deeper  and  stronger 

Till  they  can  refrain  no  longer, 

But  with, — "Oh,  my  long-lost  brother," — 

To  their  hearts  they  clasp  each  other, 

Vowing  in  the  face  of  heaven 

All  forgotten  and  forgiven ! 

Then,  the  full  luxury  of  grief 

That  brings  the  smother'd  soul  relief, 

Within  them  both  so  fiercely  rush'd 

That  from  their  vanquish'd  eyes  out-gush'd 

A  tide  of  tears,  as  pure  and  deep 

As  children,  yea  as  cherubs  weep  I 

Quoth  Roland  de  Vaux  to  Sir  Leoline; 
**No  lady  lost  can  be  daughter  of  mine, 
For  yestereen  at  this  same  hour 
My  Greraldine  sat  in  her  latticed  bower, 
And  merrily  marvell'd  much  to  hear 
She  had  been  found  in  the  forest  drear: 
Nathless,  of  thee,  old  friend,  to  crave 
Once  more  the  love  I  long  to  have 
Ere  yet  I  drop  into  the  grave. 

Behold  me  here ! 
I  hail'd  the  rich  offer,  and  hither  I  sped, 
Glad  to  reclaim  our  friendship  fled, 
And  see  that  face, —  ere  yet  it  be  dead, — 

I  feel  so  dear; 
And  my  old  heart  danced  with  the  joy  of  a  child 
When  out  of  school  he  leaps  half-wild 
To  think  we  could  be  reconciled." 


OERALDIN2.  286 


"Thy  tale  is  strange,"  quoth  Leoline, 

"As  thy  return  is  sweet; 
Yet  might  it  please  thee,  brother  mine, 

In  knightly  sort  to  greet 
This  wondrous  new-found  Geraldine; 
Certes,  she  is  a  thing  divine, — 
So  bright  in  her  doth  beauty  shine 

From  head  to  feet, 
A  wondrous  creature,  most  divine, 

For  angels  meet." 

O  glorious  in  thy  loveliness ! 
Victorious  in  thy  loveliness! 
From  what  strong  magnetic  zone 
Circling  some  strange  world  unknown, 
Hast  thou  stol'n  sweet  influence 
To  lull  in  bliss  each  ravish 'd  sense? 
That  thine  eyes  rain  light  and  love 
Kindlier  than  the  heavens  above, — 
Tliat  the  sunshine  of  thy  face 
Shows  richly  ripe  each  winning  grace,— 
That  thine  innocent  laughing  dimple, 
And  thy  tresses  curling  simple, 
Thy  soft  cheek,  and  rounded  arm. 
And  foot  unsandall'd,  white  and  warm, 
And  every  sweet  luxurious  charm 
Fair,  and  full,  and  flush'd,  and  bright, 
Fascinate  the  dazzled  sight 
As  with  a  halo  of  delight  ? 

Her  beauty  hath  conquer'd:  a  sunny  smile 

Laughs  into  goodness  her  seeming  guile. 

Ay,  was  she  not  in  mercy  sent 

To  heal  the  friendships  pride  had  rent? 

Is  she  not  here  a  blessed  saint 

To  work  all  goo<l  by  subtle  feint? 


OXBALDINX. 

Yea,  art  thou  not,  mysterious  dame, 

Our  Lady  of  Furness  ?  —  the  same,  the  same ! 

0  holy  one,  we  know  thee  now, 

O  gracious  one,  before  thee  bow. 

Help  us,  Mary,  hallow'd  one. 

Bless  us,  for  thy  wondrous  Son  — 

The  name  was  half-spoken, —  the  spell  was  half-broken,- 
And  suddenly,  from  his  bent  knee 

Upleapt  each  knight  in  fear  I 
All  warily  they  look'd  around, 
Sure,  they  had  heard  a  hissing  sound 
And  one  quick  moment  on  the  ground 

Had  seen  a  dragon  here ! 
But  now  before  their  wilder'd  eyes 
Bright  Geraldine,  all  sweet  surprise. 
With  her  fair  hands,  in  courteous  guise 
Hath  touch'd  them  both,  and  bade  them  rise; 
"Alas,  kind  sirs,"  she  calmly  said, 
"I  am  but  a  poor  hunted  maid. 
Hunted,  ah  me !  and  sore  afraid. 
That  all  too  far  from  home  have  stray'd, 
For  love  of  one  who  flies  and  hates  me, 
For  hate  of  one  who  loves  and  waits  me.*' 

Wonder-stricken  were  they  then. 
And  full  of  love,  those  ancient  men, 
Full-fired  with  guilty  love,  as  when 

In  times  of  old 
To  young  Susannah's  fairness  knelt 
Those  elders  twain,  and  fiercely  felt 
The  lava-streams  of  passion  melt 

Their  bosoms  cold: 
They  loved, — they  started  from  the  floor,— 
But  hist!  within  the  chamber-door 
Softly  stole  Sir  Amador;  — 


QERALDINE.  287 

Nor  look'd,  nor  wonder'd  as  they  past, 
(Speeding  by  in  shame  and  haste, 
Meekly  thinking  of  each  other 
As  a  weak  and  guilty  brother,) 
For  all  to  him  in  that  dark  room. 
All  the  light  to  pierce  its  gloom. 
All  he  thought  of,  cared  for,  there, 
Was  that  loved  one,  smiling  fair. 
Wondrous  in  her  charms  serene, 
Glad  and  glorious  Geraldine. 

The  eye  of  a  hawk  is  fierce  and  bright 
As  a  facet-cut  diamond  scattering  light, 
Soft  and  ray'd  with  invincible  love 
As  a  pure  pearl  is  the  eye  of  a  dove; 
And  so  in  flashes  quick  and  keen 
Look'd  Amador  on  Geraldine, 
And  so,  in  sweet  subduing  rays. 
On  Amador  did  fondly  gaze 
In  gentle  power  of  beauty's  blaze 
Imperial  Geraldine. 

His  head  is  cushion'd  on  her  breast, 

Her  dark  eyes  shed  love  on  his, 
And  his  changing  cheek  is  prest 

By  her  hot  and  thrilling  kiss. 
While  again  from  her  moist  lips 
The  honeydew  of  joy  he  sips. 
And  views,  with  rising  transport  warm, 
Her  half  unveil'd  bewitching  form  — 

A  step  on  the  threshold  !  —  the  chamber  is  dim, 
And  gliding  ghost-like  up  to  him. 
While  entranced  in  conscious  fear 
He  feels  an  injured  angel  near. 


OERALDINE. 

Sad  Christabel  with  wringing  hands 
Beside  her  faithless  lover  stands, 
Sad  Christabel  with  streaming  eyes 
In  silent  anguish  stands  and  sighs. 

Ave,  Maria!  send  her  aid, 

Bless,  oh  bless  the  wretched  maid ! 

It  is  done, —  he  is  won  ! — stung  with  remorse 

He  hath  dropt  at  her  feet  as  a  clay-cold  corse. 

And  Christabel  with  trembling  dread 

Hath  raised  on  her  knee  his  pale  dear  head, 

And  bathed  his  brow  with  many  a  tear. 

And  listen'd  for  his  breath  in  fear. 

And  when  she  thought  that  none  was  near 

But  guardian  saints,  and  GoD  above, 

Set  on  his  lips  the  seal  of  her  love ! 

But  Geraldine  had  watch'd  that  kiss, 

And  with  involuntary  hiss 

And  malice  in  her  snake-like  stare 

She  gnash'd  her  teeth  on  the  loving  pair 

And  glared  on  them  both  with  a  deadly  glare. 

Softly  through  the  sounding  hall 

In  rich  melodious  notes, 
With  many  a  gentle  swell  and  fall. 

Holy  music  floats, 
Like  gossamer  in  a  sultry  sky 
Dropping  low,  or  sailing  high : 
Bard  Bracy,  bard  Bracy,  that  touch  was  thine 

On  Cambria's  harp  with  triple  strings. 
Wild  and  sweet  is  the  hymn  divine. 

Fanning  the  air  like  unseen  wings, — 


GKBALDINE.  ^89 

What  aileth  thee,  0  Geraldine  ? 
What  horror  is  hunting  thee,  Geraldine? — 
Thy  body  convulsed  groweth  lank  and  lean. 
Thy  smooth  white  neck  is  shrivell'd  and  green. 
Thine  eyes  are  blear'd  and  sunk  and  keen, — 
Away!  —  for  the  love,  and  the  wild  sweet  harp, 
Thine  innermost  being  do  wither  and  warp,  ■ 
Away !  to  the  pains,  and  the  chains,  and  the  fears. 
Away!  to  the  torments,  the  toils,  and  the  tears, 
Away!  for  a  thousand  years. 


Cnnrlnsinn  tn  l^urt  III. 

Sweet  Christabel,  my  Christabel, 
I  have  riven  thy  heart  that  loved  so  well: 
0  weak,  0  wicked,  to  rend  in  its  home 
The  love  that  I  cherish  wherever  I  roam ! 
As  when  with  his  glory  the  morning  sun 

Floods  on  a  sudden  the  tropical  sky, 
And  startled  twilight,  dim  and  dun,  . 

Flies  from  the  fear  of  his  conquering  eye, 
So  flash' d  across  the  lightened  breast 

Of  Christabel,  no  more  to  moan, 
A  dawn  of  love,  the  happiest 

Her  maiden  heart  had  ever  known; 
For  yea,  it  was  only  through  powers  of  hell, 
And  evil  eye,  and  potent  spell. 
That  Amador  to  Christabel 

Could  faithless  prove, — 
And  when  she  saw  him  kneeling  near. 
Contrite,  yet  more  in  hope  than  fear. 
Oh  then  she  felt  him  doubly  dear. 
Her  rescued  love. 


GERALOINK. 

Ave,  Maria!  unto  thee 
All  the  thanks  and  glory  be, 
For  thy  gracious  arm  and  aid 
Saved  the  youth,  and  blest  the  maid- 
So  falls  it  out,  that  vanquish 'd  ill 
Breeds  only  good  to  good  men  still, 
And  while  its  poison  seethes  and  works 
It  yields  a  healing  antidote, 
Which,  whether  mortals  use  or  not. 
Like  a  friend  in  ambush,  lurks 
Deepest  in  the  deadliest  plot. 

Not  swift,  though  soon,  next  day  at  noon, — 

Just  at  the  wedding-hour 
As  hand-in-hand  betroth'd  they  stand 

Beneath  the  chapel  tower, 
A  holy  light, —  a  vision  bright, — 

*Twas  twelve  o'clock  at  noon, 
A  spirit  good  before  them  stood, 
Her  garments  fair  and  flowing  hair 

Shone  brighter  than  the  moon. 
And  thus  in  musical  voice  most  sweet, — 
"Daughter,  this  hour  to  grace  and  greet 
To  bless  this  day,  as  is  most  meet. 

Thy  mother  stoops  from  heaven: 
And,  ancient  men,  who  all  so  late 
Have  stopp'd  at  Death's  half-open'd  gate. 
In  tears  of  love  to  drown  your  hate 
Forgiving  and  forgiven. 
Hear,  noble  spirits  reconciled, 
Hear,  gracious  souls,  now  meek  and  mild 
Albeit  with  guilt  so  long  defiled, 

Love's  lingering  boon  receive; 


aXRALDINli.  291 


Eoland  de  Vaux, —  thy  long-lost  child, 
Whom  border-troopers,  fierce  and  wild. 
An  infant  from  his  home  beguiled, 

Thy  soul  to  gall  and  grieve, 
In  Amador  —  behold!" 

The  spirit  said,  and  all  in  light 
Melted  away  that  vision  bright: 
My  tale  is  told. 


IMAGINATION. 


SOME  EARLY  POEMS. 


3ningmaliaii. 

Thou  fair  enchantress  of  my  willing  heart, 
Who  charmest  it  to  deep  and  dreamy  slumber, 
Gilding  mine  evening  clouds  of  reverie, — 
Thou  Siren,  who,  with  lovelit  eyes,  and  voio 
Most  softly  musical,  dost  lure  me  on 
O'er  the  wide  sea  of  indistinct  idea 
Or  quaking  sands  of  untried  theory 
Or  ridgy  shoals  of  fixt  experiment 
That  wind  a  dubious  pathway  through  the  deep,- 
Imagination,  I  am  thine  own  child: 
Have  I  not  often  sat  with  thee  retired, 
Alone  yet  not  alone,  though  grave  most  glad. 
All  silent  outwardly,  but  loud  within. 
As  from  the  distant  hum  of  many  waters, 
Weaving  the  tissue  of  some  delicate  thought. 
And  hushing  every  breath  that  might  have  rent 
Our  web  of  gossamer,  so  finely  spun? 
Have  I  not  often  listed  thy  sweet  song, 
(While  in  vague  echoes  and  JEolian  notes 
The  chambers  of  my  heart  have  answer'd  it,) 
With  eye  as  bright  in  joy,  and  fluttering  pulse, 
As  the  coy  village  maiden's,  when  her  lover 
Whispers  his  hope  to  her  delighted  ear  ? 
And  taught  by  thee,  angelic  visitant. 


IMAGINATION.  298 

Have  I  not  learnt  to  love  the  tuneful  lyre, 

Draining  from  every  chord  its  musical  soul? 

Have  I  not  learnt  to  find  in  all  that  is, 

Somewhat  to  touch  the  heart,  or  raise  the  mind, 

Somewhat  of  grand  and  beautiful  to  praise 

Alike  in  small  and  great  things?  and  this  power, 

This  clearing  of  the  eye,  this  path  made  straight 

Even  to  the  heart's  own  heart,"  its  innermost  core, 

This  keenness  to  perceive  and  seek  and  find 

And  love  and  prize  all-present  harmony, 

This,  more  than  choosing  words  to  clothe  the  thought, 

Makes  the  true  poet;  this  thy  glorious  gift, 

Imagination,  rescues  me  thy  son 

(Thy  son,  albeit  least  worthy,)  from  the  lust 

Of  mammon,  and  the  cares  of  animal  life. 

And  the  dull  thraldom  of  this  work-day  world. 

Indulgent  lover,  I  am  all  thine  own; 

What  art  thou  not  to  me? — ah,  little  know 

The  worshippers  of  cold  reality. 

The  grosser  minds,  who  most  sincerely  think 

That  sense  is  the  broad  avenue  to  bliss. 

Little  know  they  the  thrilling  ecstasy 

The  delicate  refinement  in  delight 

That  cheers  the  thoughtful  spirit,  as  it  soars 

Far  above  all  these  petty  things  of  life; 

And  strcngthen'd  by  the  flight  and  cordial  joys 

Can  then  come  down  to  earth  and  common  men 

Better  in  motive,  stronger  in  resolve, 

Apter  to  use  all  means  that  compass  good. 

And  of  more  charitable  mind  to  all. 

Imagination,  art  thou  not  my  friend 

In  crowds  and  solitude,  my  comrade  dear. 

Brother,  and  sister,  mine  own  other  self, 

The  Hector  to  my  soul's  Andromache? 


IMAGINATION. 

Triumphant  beauty,  bright  iutelligence ! 

The  chasten'd  fire  of  ecstasy  supprcss'd 

Beams  from  thiuc  eye ;  because  thy  secret  heart, 

Like  that  strange  sight  burning  yet  unconsumcd, 

Is  all  on  flame  a  censer  fill'd  with  odours ; 

And  to  my  mind,  who  feel  thy  fearful  power, 

Suggesting  passive  terrors  and  delights, 

A  slumbering  volcano:  thy  dark  cheek. 

Warm  and  transparent,  by  its  half-form'd  dimple 

Reveals  an  under-world  of  wondrous  things 

Ripe  in  their  richness, —  as  among  the  bays 

Of  blest  Bermuda,  through  the  sapphire  deep 

Ruddy  and  white  fantastically  branch 

The  coral  groves;  thy  broad  and  sunny  brow, 

Made  fertile  by  the  genial  smile  of  heaven. 

Shoots  up  an  hundred-fold  the  glorious  crop 

Of  arabesque  ideas;  forth  from  thy  curls 

Half  hidden  in  their  black  luxuriance 

The  twining  sister-graces  lightly  spring. 

The  muses,  and  the  passions,  and  young  love, 

Tritons  and  Naiads,  Pegasus,  and  Sphinx, 

Atlas,  Briareus,  Phaeton,  and  Cyclops, 

Centaurs,  and  shapes  uncouth  and  wild  conceits; 

And  in  the  midst  blazes  the  star  of  mind, 

Illumining  the  classic  portico 

That  leads  to  the  high  dome  where  Learning  sits: 

On  either  side  of  that  broad  sunny  brow 

Flame-colour'd  pinions,  streak'd  with  gold  and  blue, 

Burst  from  the  teeming  brain;  while  under  them 

The  forkM  lightning,  and  the  cloud-robed  thunder, 

And  fearful  shadows,  and  unhallow'd  eyes, 

And  strange  foreboding  forms  of  terrible  things 

Lurk  in  the  midnight  of  thy  raven  locks! 

Ind  thou  hast  been  the  sunshine  to  my  landscape, 
imagination;  thou  hast  wreathed  me  smiles, 


1|      IMAGINATION.  iff 

And  hung  them  on  a  statue's  marble  lips; 

Hast  made  earth's  dullest  pebbles  bright  like  gems; 

Hast  lent  me  thine  own  silken  clue,  to  rove 

The  ideal  labyrinths  of  a  thousand  spheres; 

Hast  lengthen'd  out  my  nights  with  life-long  dreamSi 

And  with  glad  seeming  gilt  my  darkest  day; 

Help'd  me  to  scale  in  thought  the  walls  of  heaven, 

While  journeying  wearily  this  busy  world; 

Sent  me  to  pierce  the  palpable  clouds  with  eagles, 

And  with  leviathan  the  silent  deep; 

Hast  taught  my  youthful  spirit  to  expand 

Beyond  himself,  and  live  in  other  scenes, 

And  other  times,  and  among  other  men; 

Hast  bid  me  cherish,  silent  and  alone. 

First  feelings,  and  young  hopes,  and  better  aims. 

And  sensibilities  of  delicate  sort. 

Like  timorous  mimosas,  which  the  breath 

The  cold  and  cautious  breath  of  daily  life 

Hath  not  as  yet  had  power  to  blight  and  kill 

From  my  heart's  garden;  for  they  stand  retired, 

Screen 'd  from  the  north  by  groves  of  rooted  thought. 

Without  thine  aid,  how  cheerless  were  all  time. 
But  chief  the  short  sweet  hours  of  earliest  love; 
When  the  young  mind,  athirst  for  happiness. 
And  all-exulting  in  that  new-found  treasure. 
The  wealth  of  being  loved,  as  well  as  loving, 
Sees  not,  and  hears  not,  knows  not,  thinks  not,  speaks  not. 
Except  it  be  of  her,  his  one  desire; 
And  thy  rose-colour'd  glass  on  every  scene 
With  more  than  earthly  promise  cheats  the  eye, 
While  the  charm'd  ear  drinks  thy  melodious  words, 
And  the  heart  reels,  drank  with  ideal  beauty. 
So  too  the  memory  of  departed  joy, 
Walking  in  black  with  sprinkled  tears  of  pearl, 
Passes  before  the  mind  with  look  less  stem 
20 


296  IMAGINATION. 

And  foot  more  lighten'd,  when  thine  inward  power, 
Most  gentle  friend,  upon  that  clouded  face 
Sheds  the  fair  light  of  better  joy  to  come, 
And  throws  round  Grief  the  azure  scarf  of  Hope. 

As  the  wild  chamois  bounds  from  rock  to  rock, 

Oft  on  the  granite  steeples  nicely  poised, 

Unconscious  that  the  cliff  from  which  he  hangs 

Was  once  a  fiery  sea  of  molten  stone 

Shot  up  ten  thousand  feet  and  crystallized 

When  earth  was  labouring  with  her  kraken  brood; 

So  have  I  sped  with  thee,  my  bright-eyed  love, 

Imagination,  over  pathless  wilds, 

Boimding  from  thought  to  thought,  unmindful  of 

The  fever  of  my  soul  that  shot  them  up 

And  made  a  ready  footing  for  my  speed. 

As  in  a  whirlwind  I  have  flown  along 

Wing'd  with  ecstatic  mind,  and  carried  away 

Like  Ganymede  of  old,  o'er  cloudcapt  Ida, 

Or  Alps,  or  Andes,  or  the  ice-bound  shores 

Of  Arctic  or  Antarctic, —  stolen  from  earth 

Her  sister  planets  and  the  twinkling  eyes 

That  watch  her  from  afar,  to  the  pure  seat 

Of  rarest  Matter's  last  created  world. 

And  brilliant  halls  of  self-existing  Light  I 


Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  —  My  coy  Jungfra 
Is  tall  and  robed  in  snow, — 

Yet  at  a  leap  to  the  topmost  steep 
I  bound  from  the  glen  below; 


TH£    SONG    OF    AN    ALPINE    ELF.  29? 

On  her  dizziest  peak  I  sit  and  shriek 

To  the  winds  that  around  me  blow, 
And  heard  from  afar  is  my  ha!  ha!  ha  I 

The  wild  laugh  echoes  so. 
In  the  forests  dun  round  Lauterbrunn 

That  line  each  dark  ravine, 
I  hide  me  away  from  the  garish  day 

Till  the  howling  winter's  e'en; 
Then  I  jump  on  high  through  the  coal-black  sky, 

And  light  on  some  cliff  of  snow 
That  nods  to  its  fall  like  a  tottering  wall, 

And  I  rock  it  to  and  fro ! 
My  summer  home  is  the  cataract's  foam 

As  it  floats  in  a  frothing  heap. 
My  winter's  rest  is  the  weasel's  nest, 

Or  deep  with  the  mole  I  sleep; 
Or  I  ride  for  a  freak  on  the  lightning-streak. 

Or  climb  till  I  reach  in  the  clouds 
The  terrible  form  of  the  Thunder-storm, 

Wrapp'd  in  his  sable  shrouds  ! 
Often  I  launch  the  huge  avalanch, 

And  make  it  my  milk-white  sledge. 
When  unappall'd  to  the  Grindlewald 

I  slide  from  the  Shrikehom's  edge; 
Silent  and  soft  to  the  ibex  oft 

I  have  stolen,  and  hurried  him  o'er 
The  precipice  to  the  bristling  ice 

That  smokes  with  his  scarlet  gore: 
But  my  greatest  joy  is  to  lure  and  decoy 

To  the  snow-drift's  slippery  brink 
The  hunter  bold,  when  he's  weary  and  cold, 

And  there  let  him  suddenly  sink, — 
A  thousand  feet — dead!  he  dropp'd  like  lead, 

Ha,  he  couldn't  leap  like  me;  "^ 

With  broken  back,  as  a  felon  on  rack, 

He  bangs  in  a  split  pine-tree! 


THE    BONO    OF    AN    ALPINE    ELI*. 

And  there  mid  his  bones,  that  echoed  with  groans, 

I  make  mc  a  nest  of  his  hair; 
The  ribs  dry  and  white  rattle  loud  as  in  spite 

When  I  rock  in  my  cradle  there : 
Hurrah,  hurrah,  and  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

I'm  in  a  madman's  mood. 
For  I'm  all  alone  in  my  palace  of  bone 
That's  tapestried  fair  with  the  old  man's  hair 

And  dabbled  with  clots  of  blood; 
And  when  I  look  out  all  around  and  about, 
The  storm  shouts  high  to  the  coalblack  sky, 
And  the  icicle  sleet  falls  thick  and  fleet. 
And  all  that  I  hear  on  the  mountains  drear, 
And  all  I  behold  on  the  valleys  cold, 

Is  Death  in  Solitude ! 


Strains. 

A  DREAM  —  mysterious  word,  a  dream ! 

What  joys  and  sorrows  are  enshrined 
In  those  dark  hours  we  fondly  deem 

A  plaything  for  the  truant  mind: 

It  is  a  happy  thing  to  dream. 

When  rosy  thoughts  and  visions  bright 
Pour  on  the  soul  a  golden  stream 

Of  rich  luxurious  delight; 

It  is  a  weary  thing  to  dream, 

When  from  the  hot  and  aching  brain 

As  from  a  boiling  cauldron  steam 
The  myriad  forms  in  ^c/s  train; 


DREAMS. 

It  is  a  curious  thing  to  dream, 

Whea  shapes  grotesque  of  all  quaint  things 
Like  laughing  water-witches  seem 

To  sport  in  reason's  turbid  springs; 

It  is  a  glorious  thing  to  dream, 

When  full  of  wings  and  full  of  eyes 

Borne  on  the  whirlwind  or  sun-beam 
We  race  along  the  startled  skies; 

It  is  a  wondrous  thing  to  dream 
Of  tumbling  with  a  fearful  shock 

From  some  tall  cliflF  where  eagles  scream, 
To  light  upon  a  feather  rock; 

It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  dream 

Of  strangled  throats  and  heart-blood  spilt, 
And  ghosts  that  in  the  darkness  gleam, 

And  horrid  eyes  of  midnight  guilt:  — 

Who  shall  tell  me  what  I  dream? 

Ages  lingering  in  a  night, — 
Thronging  thoughts  of  things  that  teem 

With  wonder,  terror,  and  delight ! 


Snfnnt  Cjirist,  tnitji  ^nmrra. 

Yes, —  I  can  fancy,  in  the  spring 
Of  Childhood's  sunny  hours. 

That  Nature's  infant  Priest  and  King 
Loved  to  gaze  on  flowers ; 


too  INFANT    CHRIST,    WITU    PLOAVER8. 

For  lightly,  'mid  the  wreck  of  all, 
When  torn  from  Eden's  bowers, 

Above  the  billows  of  the  fall 
Floated  gentle  flowers: 

Unfallen,  sinless,  undefiled, 

Fresh  bathed  in  summer  showers, 

What  wonder  that  the  holy  Child 
Loved  to  play  with  flowers? 

In  these  he  saw  his  Father's  face, 
All  Godhead's  varied  powers, 

And  joy'd  each  attribute  to  trace 
In  sweet  unconscious  flowers: 

In  these  he  found  where  Wisdom  hides 
And  modest  Beauty  cowers, 

And  where  Omnipotence  resides, 
And  Tenderness, —  in  flowers! 

Innocent  Child,  a  little  while. 
Ere  yet  the  tempest  lours. 

Bask  thy  young  heart  in  Nature's  smile, 
Her  lovely  smile  of  flowers; 

Thy  young  heart, —  is  it  not  array 'd 
In  feelings  such  as  ours?  — 

Yes,  being  now  of  thorns  afraid, 
I  see  thee  crown'd  with  flowers. 


PAST,    PRESENT,    AND    FUTUEB.  801 


A  SAD  sweet  gladness,  full  of  tears. 
And  thoughts  that  never  cloy 

Of  careless  childhood's  happier  years, 
Is  Memory's  tranquil  joy; 

A  rapturous  and  delusive  dream 

Of  pleasures  ne'er  to  be, 
That  o'er  life's  troubled  waters  gleam, 

Is  Hope's  sweet  reverie: 

Yet,  before  Memory  can  look  back. 
When  Hope  is  lost  in  sight. 

Ah!  where  is  Memory's  fairy  track, 
Ah !  where  is  Hope's  delight  ? 

The  present  is  a  weary  scene. 

And  always  wish'd  away; 
We  live  on  "to  be"  and  "has  been," 

But  never  on  "to-day." 


51  Ijinrt  (0n3jieL 

Wisdom  framed  the  wondrous  plan 
Love  had  hoped  for  fallen  man; 
Justice  bade  the  blood  be  spilt ; 
Mercy  bore  imputed  guilt ; 
Truth  rejoiced,  and  smiled  to  see 
Power  had  set  the  captive  free. 


ON    A    BULBOUS     ROOT. 


WmCH  BtOBflOXZS,  ATTER  HATIKQ  LAIN  FOR  AQE8  IN  THX  HAND  OF  All 
EOTPTUN  MUMUT. 

What,  wide  awake,  sweet  stranger,  wide  awake? 
And  laughing  coyly  at  an  English  sun. 
And  blessing  him  with  smiles  for  having  thaw'd 
Thine  icy  chain,  for  having  woke  thee  gently 
From  thy  long  slumber  of  three  thousand  years  ? 
Methinks  I  see  the  eye  of  wonder  peering 
From  thy  tall  pistil,  looking  strangely  forth 
As  from  a  watch-tow' r  at  thy  fellow-flowers, 
Admiring  much  the  rich  variety 
Of  many  a  gem  in  nature's  jewel-case 
Unknown  to  thee, —  the  drooping  hyacinth. 
The  prim  ranunculus,  and  gay  geranium, 
And  dahlias  rare,  and  heartsease  of  all  hues. 
Mealy  auriculas,  and  spotted  lilies. 
Gaudy  carnations,  and  the  modest  face 
Of  the  moss-rose :  methinks  thy  wondering  leaves 
And  curious  petals  at  the  long-lost  sun 
Gaze  with  a  lingering  love,  bedizen'd  o'er 
With  a  small  firmament  of  eyes  to  catch 
The  luxury  of  his  smile ;  as  o'er  the  pool 
Hovering  midway  the  gorgeous  dragon-fly 
Watches  his  mates  with  thousand-facet  vision* 
Or  as  when  underneath  the  waterfall 
Floating  in  sunny  wreaths  the  fretted  foam 
Mirrors  blue  heaven  its  million  orbs : 
Methinks  I  see  thy  fair  and  foreign  face 
Blush  with  the  glowing  ardour  of  first  love, 
(Mindful  of  ancient  Nile,  and  those  warm  skies, 
And  tender  tales  of  insect  coquetry,) 


ONABULBOUSROOT.  803 

When  some  bright  butterfly  descends  to  sip 

The  exotic  fragrance  of  thy  nectarous  dew : 

Even  so,  Jubal's  daughters  in  old  time 

Welcomed  the  sons  of  God,  who  sprang  from  heaven 

To  gaze  with  rapture  on  earth's  fairest  creatures, 

And  fan  them  with  their  rainbow-colour'd  wings. 

Didst  ever  dream  of  such  a  day  as  this, 

A  day  of  life  and  sunshine,  when  entranced 

In  the  cold  tomb  of  yonder  shrivell'd  hand  ? 

Didst  ever  try  to  shoot  thy  fibres  forth 

Through  thy  close  prison-bars,  those  parchment-fingers, 

And  strive  to  blossom  in  a  charnel-house? 

Didst  ever  struggle  to  be  free, —  to  leap 

From  that  forced  wedlock  with  a  clammy  corpse, — 

To  burst  thy  bonds  asunder,  and  spring  up 

A  thing  of  light  to  commerce  with  the  skies? 

Or  didst  thou  rather,  with  endurance  strong, 

(That  might  have  taught  a  Newton  passive  power,) 

Bafl3e  corruption,  and  live  on  unharm'd 

Amid  the  pestilent  steams  that  wrapp'd  thee  round, 

Like  Mithridates,  when  he  would  not  die, 

But  conquer'd  poison  by  his  strong  resolve? 

0  Life,  thy  name  is  mystery, —  that  couldst 
Thus  energize  inert,  be,  yet  not  be. 
Concentrating  thy  powers  in  one  small  point; 
Couldst  mail  a  germ,  in  seeming  weakness  strong, 
And  arm  it  as  thy  champion  against  Death; 
Couldst  give  a  weed,  dug  from  the  common  field, 
What  Egypt  hath  not.  Immortality; 
Couldst  lull  it  oflF  to  sleep  ere  Carthage  was. 
And  wake  it  up  when  Carthage  is  no  more ! 
It  may  be,  suns  and  stars  that  walk'd  the  heavens 
While  thou  wert  in  thy  slumber,  gentle  flower, 


804'  ON    A    BULBOUS    ROOT. 

Have  sprung  from  chaos,  blazed  their  age,  and  burst: 
It  may  be,  that  thou  seest  the  world  worn  out, 
And  look'st  on  meadows  of  a  paler  green, 
Flow'rs  of  a  duskier  hue,  and  all  creation 
Down  to  degenerate  man  more  and  more  dead, 
Than  in  those  golden  hours,  nearest  to  Eden, 
When  mother  earth  and  thoii  and  all  were  young. 

And  he  that  held  thee, —  this  bituminous  shape. 

This  fossil  shell  once  tenanted  by  life, 

This  chrysalis  husk  of  the  poor  insect  man. 

This  leathern  coat,  this  carcase  of  a  soul, — 

What  was  thy  story,  0  mine  elder  brother? 

I  note  thee  now,  swathed  like  a  Milanese  babe. 

But  thine  are  tinctured  grave-clothes,  fathoms  long; 

On  thy  shrunk  breast  the  mystic  beetle  lies 

Commending  thee  to  Earth,  and  to  the  Sun 

Regenerating  all;  a  curious  scroll 

Full  of  strange  written  lore  rests  at  thy  side; 

While  a  quaint  rosary  of  bestial  gods, 

Ammon,  Bubastes,  Thoth,  Osiris,  Apis, 

And  Horus  with  the  curl,  Typhon  and  Phthah, 

Amulets  cipher 'd  with  forgotten  tongues. 

And  charm'd  religious  beads  circle  thy  throat. 

Greatly  thy  children  honour'd  thee  in  death. 

And  for  the  light  vouchsafed  them  they  did  well, — 

In  that  they  hoped,  and  not  unwisely  hoped. 

Again  in  his  own  flesh  to  see  their  sire; 

And  their  affections  spared  not,  so  the  form 

They  loved  in  life  might  rest  adom'd  in  death. 

But  this  dry  hand, —  was  it  once  terrible 
When  among  warrior  bands  thou  wentest  forth 
With  Ramses,  or  Sesostris,  yet  again 


0NABULB0U8R00T.  805 

To  crush  the  rebel  ^thiop? — wast  thou  set 

A  taskmaster  to  toiling  Israel 

When  Cheops  and  Cephrenes  raised  to  heaven 

Their  giant  sepulchres? — or  did  this  hand, 

That  lately  held  a  flow'r,  with  murderous  grasp 

Tear  from  the  Hebrew  mother  her  poor  babe 

To  fling  it  to  the  crocodile? — Or  rather 

Wert  thou  some  garden-lover,  and  this  bulb. 

Perchance  most  rare  and  fine,  prized  above  gold, 

(As  in  the  mad  world's  dotage  yesterday 

A  tulip  root  could  fetch  a  prince's  ransom,) — 

Was  to  be  buried  with  thee,  as  thy  praise. 

Thy  Rosicrucian  lamp,  thine  idol  weed? — 

Perchance,  0  kinder  thought  and  better  hope, 

Some  priest  of  Isis  shrined  this  root  with  thee 

As  nature's  hieroglyphic,  her  half-guess 

Of  glimmering  faith,  that  soul  will  never  die : 

What  emblem  liker,  or  more  eloquent 

Of  immortality, —  whether  the  Sphinx, 

Scarab,  or  circled  snake,  or  wide-wing'd  orb, 

The  azure-colour'd  arch,  the  sleepless  eye, 

The  pyramid  four-square,  or  flowing  river,  * 

Or  all  whatever  else  were  symbols  apt 

In  Egypt's  alphabet, —  than  this  dry  root, 

So  full  of  living  promise  ? — Yes,  I  see 

Nature's  "  rcsurgam  "  sculptured  there  in  words 

That  all  of  every  clime  may  run  and  read : 

I  see  the  better  hope  of  better  times, 

Hope  against  hope,  wrapp'd  in  the  dusky  coats 

Of  a  poor  leek, —  I  note  glad  tidings  there 

Of  happier  things;  this  undccaying  corpse 

A  little  longer,  yet  a  little  longer 

Must  slumber  on,  but  shall  awake  at  lastj 

A  little  longer,  yet  a  little  longer, — 


im.  ON    A    BULBOUS    ROOT. 

And  at  the  trumpet's  voice,  shall  this  dry  shape 
Start  up,  instinct  with  life,  the  same  though  changed, 
And  put  on  incomiption's  glorious  garb: 
If  aught  of  Israel's  God  he  knew  and  loved. 
Brighter  than  seraphs,  and  bejond  the  son  I 


Will  none  befriend  that  poor  dumb  brute, 

Will  no  man  rescue  him  ? — 
With  weaker  efiFort,  gasping,  mute, 

He  strains  in  every  limb; 

Spare  him,  O  spare:  —  he  feels, — he  feels,- 

Big  tears  roll  from  his  eyes; 
Another  crushing  blow!  —  he  reels. 

Staggers, — and  falls, — and  dies. 

Poor  jaded  horse,  my  blood  runs  cold 

Thy  guiltless  wrongs  to  see; 
To  heav'n,  0  starved  one,  lame  and  old, 

Thy  dim  eye  pleads  for  thee. 

Thou  too,  0  dog,  whose  faithful  zeal 
Fawns  on  some  ruffian  grim, — 

He  stripes  thy  skin  with  many  a  weal, 
And  yet, — thou  lovest  him. 

Shame !  that  of  all  the  living  chain 

That  links  creation's  plan. 
There  is  but  one  delights  in  pain, 

The  savage  monarch, — man! 


OEUELTY.  807 

0  cruelty, — who  could  rehearse 

Thy  million  dismal  deeds, 
Or  track  the  workings  of  the  curse 

By  which  all  nature  bleeds? 

Thou  meanest  crime, — thou  coward  sin, — 

Thou  base  flint-hearted  vice, — 
Scorpion  !  —  to  sting  thy  heart  within 

Thyself  shalt  all  suffice; 

The  merciless  is  doubly  curst, 

As  mercy  is  "twice  blest;" 
Vengeance,  though  slow,  shall  come, —  but  first 

The  vengeance  of  the  breast! 

Why  add  another  woe  to  life, 

Man, — are  there  not  enough? 
Why  lay  thy  weapon  to  the  strife? 

Why  make  the  road  more  rough? 

Faint,  hunger-sick,  old,  blind,  and  ill,  . 

The  poor,  or  man  or  beast. 
Can  battle  on  with  life  uphill, 

And  bear  its  griefs  at  least; 

Truly,  their  cup  of  gall  o'erflows ! 

But,  when  the  spite  of  men 
Adds  poison  to  the  draught  of  woes, 

Who,  who  can  drink  it  then? 

Heard  ye  that  shriek?  —  0  wretch,  forbear. 

Fling  down  thy  bloody  knife : 
In  fear,  if  not  in  pity,  spare 

A  woman,  and  a  wife! 


996  CRUELTY. 

For  thee  she  toils,  uncbiding,  mild, 

And  for  ihy  children  wan, 
Beaten,  and  starved, —  with  famine  wild, 

To  feast  thee,  monster-man: 

Husband,  and  father, —  drunkard,  fiend  I 
Thy  wife's,  thy  children's  moan 

Has  won  for  innocence  a  Friend, 
Has  reach'd  thy  Judge's  throne; 

Their  lives  thou  madest  sad;  but  worse 
Thy  deathless  doom  shall  be, 

"No  MEECY !"  is  the  withering  curse 
Thy  Judge  hath  pass'd  on  thee : 

Heap  on, —  heap  on,  fresh  torments  add,- 
New  schemes  of  torture  plan. 

No  MERCY !     Mercy's  self  is  glad 
To  damn  the  cruel  man. 

God  !  God  !     Thy  whole  creation  groans, 
•  Thy  fair  world  writhes  in  pain; 

Shall  the  dread  incense  of  its  moans 
Arise  to  thee  in  vain  ? 

The  hollow  eye  of  famine  pleads, 
The  face  with  weeping  pale. 

The  heart  that  all  in  secret  bleeds, 
The  grief  that  tells  no  tale. 

Oppression's  victim,  weak  and  mild. 
Scarce  shrinking  from  the  blow. 

And  the  poor  wearied  factory  child, 
Join  in  the  dirge  of  woe. 


CRUELTY.  309 


O  cruel  world!     0  sickening  fear 
Of  goad,  or  knife,  or  thong; 

0  load  of  evils  ill  to  bear! 

How  long,  good  God,  how  long? 


3Mnn5ifttr  h'ilteDtt. 

An  Incident,  founded  on  Fact. 

Poor  Monsieur  d'Alveron !     I  well  remember 

The  day  I  visited  his  ruinous  cot, 

And  heard  the  story  of  his  fallen  fortunes. 

It  was  a  fine  May  morning,  and  the  flowers 

Spread  their  fair  faces  to  the  laughing  sun. 

And  look'd  like  small  terrestrial  stars,  that  beam'd 

With  life  and  joy;  the  merry  lark  was  high 

Careering  in  the  heavens,  and  now  and  then 

A  throstle  from  the  neighbouring  thicket  pour'd 

His  musical  and  hearty  orisons. 

The  cot  too  truly  told  that  poverty 

Found  it  a  home  with  misery  and  scorn : 

No  clambering  jessamine,  no  well-train'd  roses 

There  lingered,  like  sweet  charity,  to  hide 

The  rents  unseemly  of  the  plaster'd  wall; 

No  tight  trimm'd  rows  of  box,  or  daisy  prim, 

Mark'd  a  clean  pathway  through  the  miry  clay; 

But  all  around  was  want  and  cold  neglect. 

With  curious  hand,  (and  heart  that  beat  with  warm 

Benevolence,)  —  1  knock'd,  lifted  the  latch, 

And  in  the  language  of  his  mother-land 

Besought  a  welcome;  quick  with  courteous  phrase, 

And  joy  unfeign'd  to  hear  his  native  tongue, 

He  bade  me  enter. — 'Twas  a  ruin'd  hovel; 

Disease  and  penury  had  done  their  worst 


MONSIEUR    D'ALVEBON. 

To  hunt  a  wretched  exile  to  despair, 

But  still  with  spirit  unbroken  he  lived  on, 

And  with  a  Frenchman's  national  levity 

Bounded  elastic  from  his  weight  of  woes. 

I  listed  long  his  fond  garrulity. 

For  sympathy  and  confidence  are  aye 

Each  other's  echoes,  and  I  won  his  heart 

By  pitying  his  sorrows;  long  he  told 

Of  friends,  and  wife,  and  darling  little  ones, 

Fortune,  and  title,  and  long-cherish 'd  hopes 

By  frenzied  Revolution  marr'd  and  crush'd: 

But  oft  my  patience  flicker 'd,  and  my  eye 

Wander'd  inquisitive  round  the  murky  room 

To  see  wherein  I  best  might  mitigate 

The  misery  my  bosom  bled  to  view. 

I  sat  upon  his  crazy  couch,  and  there 

With  many  sordid  rags,  a  roebuck's  skin 

Show'd  sleek  and  mottled;  swift  the  clear  grey  eye 

Of  the  poor  sufferer  had  mark'd  my  wonder, 

And  as  in  simple  guise  this  touching  tale 

He  told  me,  in  the  tongue  his  youth  had  loved, 

Many  a  tear  stole  down  his  wrinkled  cheek. 

"Yon  glossy  skin  is  all  that  now  remains 

To  tell  me  that  the  past  is  not  a  dream ! 

Oft  up  my  chS,teau's  avenue  of  limes 

To  be  caress'd  in  mine  ancestral  hall 

Poor  'Louis'  bounded,  (I  had  call'd  him  Louis, 

Because  I  loved  my  King;)  —  my  little  ones 

Have  on  his  rounded  antlers  often  hung 

Their  garlands  of  spring  flowers,  and  fed  him  with 

Sweet  heads  of  clover  from  their  darling  hands. 

But  on  a  sorrowful  day  a  random-shot 

Of  some  bold  thief,  or  well-skill'd  forester. 

Struck  him  to  death,  and  many  a  tear  and  sob 


MONSIEUR    D'aLVKRON.  Ml 

Were  the  unwritten  epitaph  upon  him. 

The  children  would  not  lose  him  utterly, 

But  pray'd  to  have  his  mottled  beautiful  skin 

A  rug  to  their  new  pony-chaise,  that  they 

Might  oftener  think  of  their  lost  favourite: 

Ay  —  there  it  is !  —  that  precious  treasury 

Of  fond  remembrances, —  that  glossy  skin  I 

O  thou  chief  solace  in  the  wintry  nights 

That  warms  my  poor  old  heart,  and  thaws  my  breast 

With  tears  of — Mais,  Monsieur,  asseyez-vous  !*' — 

But  I  had  started  up,  and  tum'd  aside 

To  weep  in  solitude. — 


Ah,  might  I  but  escape  to  some  sweet  spot, 

Oasis  of  my  hopes,  to  fancy  dear. 
Where  rural  virtues  are  not  yet  forgot. 

And  good  old  customs  crown  the  circling  year; 
Where  still  contented  peasants  love  their  lot. 

And  trade's  vile  din  offends  not  nature's  ear, 
But  hospitable  hearths,  and  welcomes  warm 
To  country  quiet  add  their  social  charm; 

Some  smiling  bay  of  Cambria's  happy  shore, 
A  wooded  dingle  on  a  mountain-side. 

Within  tho  distant  sound  of  ocean's  roar, 
And  looking  down  on  valley  fair  and  wide. 

Nigh  to  the  village  church,  to  please  me  more 
Than  vast  cathedrals  in  their  Gothic  pride. 

And  blest  with  pious  pastor,  who  has  trod 

Himself  the  way,  and  leads  his  flock  to  GoD. 
21 


812  wisdom' 8    WISH. 

"There  would  I  dwell,  for  I  delight  therein  I" 

Far  from  the  evil  ways  of  evil  men, 
Untainted  by  the  soil  of  others'  sin, 

My  own  repented  of,  and  clean  again; 
With  health  and  plenty  crown'd,  and  peace  within, 

Choice  books,  and  guiltless  pleasures  of  the  pen, 
And  mountain-rambles  with  a  welcome  friend. 
And  dear  domestic  joys  that  never  end. 

There  from  the  flowery  mead,  or  shingled  shore. 
To  cull  the  gems  that  bounteous  Nature  gave, 

From  the  rent  mountain  pick  the  brilliant  ore. 
Or  seek  the  curious  crystal  in  its  cave; 

And  learning  nature's  Master  to  adore. 

Know  more  of  Him  who  came  the  lost  to  save; 

Drink  deep  the  pleasures  contemplation  gives. 

And  learn  to  love  the  meanest  thing  that  lives. 

No  enviotia  wish  my  fellows  to  excel. 
No  sordid  money-getting  cares  be  mine; 

No  low  ambition  in  high  state  to  dwell, 

Nor  meanly  grand  among  the  poor  to  shine : 

But,  sweet  Benevolence,  regale  me  well 

With  those  cheap  pleasures  and  light  cares  of  thin;, 

And  meek-eyed  Piety  be  always  near. 

With  calm  Content,  and  Gratitude  sincere. 

Rescued  from  cities,  and  forensic  strife, 

And  walking  well  with  God  in  nature's  eye, 

Blest  with  fair  children,  and  a  faithful  wife, 

Love  at  my  board,  and  friendship  dwelling  nigh, 

Oh  thus  to  wear  away  my  useful  life, 

And  when  I'm  call'd,  in  rapturous  hope  to  die, 

Thus  to  rob  heaven  of  all  the  good  I  can, 

And  challenge  earth  to  show  a  happier  man ! 


THE    MOTHKR's    lament. 

My  own  little  darling  —  dead  I 
The  dove  of  my  happiness  fled ! 

Just  Heaven,  forgive, 

But  let  toe  not  live 
Now  my  poor  babe  is  dead: 

No  more  to  my  yearning  breast 
Shall  that  sweet  mouth  be  prest, 

No  more  on  my  arm 

Nestled  up  warm 
Shall  my  fair  darling  rest: 

Alas,  for  that  dear  glazed  eye, 
Why  did  it  dim  or  die? 

Those  lips  so  soft 

I  have  kiss'd  so  oft 
Why  are  they  ice,  oh  why? 

Alas,  little  frocks  and  toys. 
Shadows  of  bygone  joys, — 

Have  I  not  treasure 

Of  bitterest  pleasure 
In  these  little  frocks  and  toys? 

0  harrowing  sight  to  behold 
That  marble-like  face  all  cold, 

That  small  cherish' d  form 

Flung  to  the  worm. 
Deep  in  the  chamcl-mould ! 

Where  is  each  heart-winning  way, 
Thy  prattle,  and  innocent  play? 

Alas,  they  are  gone, 

And  loft  me  alone 
To  w«6p  for  them  night  and  day: 


J14  THE    MOTHER'S    LAMENT. 

Yet  why  should  I  linger  behind? 

Kill  me  too, —  death  most  kind; 
"Where  can  I  go 
To  meet  thy  blow 

And  my  sweet  babe  to  find? 

I  know  it,  I  rave  half-wild  I 
But  who  can  be  calm  and  mild 

When  the  deep  heart 

Is  riven  apart 
Over  a  dear  dead  child? 

I  know  it,  I  should  not  speak 
So  boldly,  I  ought  to  be  meek, 

But  love,  it  is  strong; 

And  my  spirit  is  wrong,— 
Help  me,  my  God!  I  am  weak! 


€xn± 

"My  times  are  in  tby  band." 

Yet  will  I  trust,  in  all  my  fears, 

Thy  mercy,  gracious  Lord,  appears. 

To  guide  me  through  this  vale  of  tears, 

And  be  my  strength; 
Thy  mercy  guides  the  ebb  and  flow 
Of  health  and  joy,  or  pain  and  woe. 
To  wean  my  heart  from  all  below 

To  Thee  at  length. 
Yes, — welcome  pain, —  which  Thou  hast  sent,- 
Yes, —  farewell  blessings, —  Thou  hast  lent, 
With  Thee  alone  I  rest  content, 

,  ,    .    ,  .     For  Thou  art  Heav'n, — 


TRUST.  81ft 


My  trust  reposes,  safe  and  still, 
On  the  wise  goodness  of  Thy  will, 
Grateful  for  earthly  good  —  or  ill. 

Which  Thou  hast  giv'n. 
0  blessed  friend  !  0  blissful  thought ! 
"With  happiest  consolation  fraught, — 
Trust  Thee  I  may,  I  will,  I  ought, — 

To  doubt  were  sin; 
Then  let  whatever  storms  arise, 
Their  Ruler  sits  above  the  skies, 
And  lifting  unto  Him  mine  eyes, 

'Tis  calm  within. 
Danger  may  threaten,  foes  molest. 
Poverty  brood,  disease  infest, 
Yea,  torn  affections  wound  the  breast 

For  one  sad  hour. 
But  Faith  looks  to  her  home  on  high, 
Hope  casta  around  a  cheerful  eye. 
And  love  puts  all  the  terrors  by 

With  gladdening  power. 


'^^  ItnraniBrrr's  Cnmjilaiul 

An,  think  it  not  a  light  calamity 
To  be  denied  free  converse  with  my  kind, 
To  be  debarr'd  from  man's  true  attribute. 
The  proper  glorious  prinlegc  of  Speech. 
Hast  thou  beheld  an  eagle  chain'd  to  earth? 
A  restless  panther  in  his  cage  immured? 
A  swift  trout  by  the  wily  fisher  check'd? 
A  wild  bird  hopeless  strain  its  broken  wing? 
Or  ever  felt,  at  the  dark  dead  of  night, 


316  THK    stammerer's    COMPLAINT. 

Some  undefined  and  horrid  incubus 

Press  down  the  very  soul, — and  paralyse 

The  limbs  in  their  imaginary  flight 

From  shadowy  terrors  in  unhallow'd  sleep? 

Or  ever  known  the  sudden  icy  chill 

Of  dreary  disappointment,  as  it  dashes 

The  sweet  cup  of  anticipated  bliss 

From  the  parch'd  lips  of  long-enduring  hope? 

Then  thou  canst  picture, — ay,  in  sober  truth, 
In  honest  unexaggerated  truth, — 
The  constant,  galling,  festering  chain  that  binds 
Captive  my  mute  interpreter  of  thought; 
The  seal  of  lead  enstamp'd  upon  my  lips, 
The  load  of  iron  on  my  labouring  chest, 
The  mocking  demon  that  at  every  step 
Haunts  me, — and  spurs  me  on  —  to  burst  with  silence  I 
Oh!  'tis  a  sore  affliction,  to  restrain. 
From  mere  necessity,  the  glowing  thought; 
To  feel  the  fluent  cataract  of  speech 
Check'd  by  some  wintry  spell,  and  frozen  up. 
Just  as  it  leapeth  from  the  precipice ! 
To  be  the  butt  of  wordy  captious  fools, 
And  see  the  sneering  self-complacent  smile 
Of  victory  on  their  lips,  when  I  might  prove, 
(But  for  some  little  word  I  dare  not  utter,) 
That  innate  truth  is  not  a  specious  lie; 
To  hear  foul  slander  blast  an  honour'd  name. 
Yet  breathe  no  fact  to  drive  the  fiend  away; 
To  mark  neglected  virtue  in  the  dust, 
Yet  have  no  word  to  pity  or  console; 
To  feel  just  indignation  swell  my  breast, 
Yet  know  the  fountain  of  my  wrath  is  seal'd; 
To  see  my  fellow-mortals  hurrying  on 
Down  the  steep  cliff  of  crime,  down  to  perdition, 
►  Yet  have  no  voice  to  warn, —  no  voice  to  win  ! 


THE    stammerer's    COMPLAINT.  317 

'Tis  to  be  mortified  in  every  point, 
Baffled  at  every  turn  of  life,  for  want 
Of  that  most  common  privilege  of  man. 
The  merest  drug  of  gorged  society. 
Words, —  windy  words.     And  is  it  not  in  truth 
A  poison'd  sting  in  every  social  joy, 
A  thorn  that  rankles  in  the  writhing  flesh, 
A  drop  of  gall  in  each  domestic  sweet. 
An  irritating  petty  misery. 
That  I  can  never  look  on  one  I  love 
And  speak  the  fulness  of  my  burning  thoughts  J' 
That  I  can  never  with  unmingled  joy 
Meet  a  long-loved  and  long-expected  friend. 
Because  1  feel,  but  cannot  vent  my  feelings, — 
Because  I  know  I  ought, —  but  must  not  speak. 
Because  I  mark  his  quick  impatient  eye 
Striving  in  kindness  to  anticipate 
The  word  of  welcome,  strangled  in  ita  birth  1 
Is  it  not  sorrow,  while  I  truly  love 
Sweet  social  converse,  to  be  forced  to  shun 
The  happy  circle,  from  a  nervous  sense. 
An  agonizing  poignant  consciousness 
That  I  must  stand  aloof,  nor  mingle  with 
The  wise  and  good,  in  rational  argument, 
The  young  in  brilliant  quickness  of  reply. 
Friendship's  ingenuous  interchange  of  mind. 
Affection's  open-hearted  sympathies, 
But  feel  myself  an  isolated  being, 
A  very  wilderness  of  widow'd  thought ! 

Ay,  this  is  very  bitter, —  not  less  bitter 
Because  it  is  not  reckoned  in  the  ills, 
"The  thousand  natural  shocks  that  flesh  is  heir  to;" 
Yet  the  full  ocean  is  but  countless  drops. 
And  misery  is  an  aggregate  ol  t<;ars. 


THE    stammerer's    COMPLAINT. 

And  life  replete  Trith  small  UDnoyances 
la  but  one  long  protracted  scene  of  sorrow. 

I  scarce  would  wonder,  if  a  godless  man, 
(I  name  not  him  whose  hope  is  heavenward,) 
A.  man,  whom  lying  vanities  have  scathed 
And  harden'd  from  all  fear, — if  such  an  one 
By  this  tyrannical  Argus  goaded  on, 
Were  to  be  wearied  of  his  very  life. 
And  daily,  hourly  foil'd  in  social  converse, 
By  the  slow  simmering  of  disappointment 
Become  a  sour'd  and  apathetic  being. 
Were  to  be  glad  to  fling  away  his  life. 
And  long  for  death  to  free  him  from  his  chain. 


%tmu[mth 

There  is  indeed  one  crowning  joy, 
A  pleasure  that  can  never  cloy. 

The  bliss  of  doing  good; 
And  to  it  a  reward  is  given 
Most  precious  in  the  sight  of  heaven, 

The  tear  of  gratitude. 

To  nuse  the  fallen  from  the  dust, 
To  right  the  poor  by  judgment  just. 

The  broken  heart  to  heal, 
Pour  on  the  soul  a  stream  as  bright 
Of  satisfying  deep  delight 
As  happy  spirits  feel : 


BENEVOLENCE.  319 

Yes,  high  archangels  wing  their  way 
Far  from  the  golden  founts  of  day 

To  scenes  of  earthly  sadness, 
That  they  may  comfort  the  distress'd,— 
And  feel  in  blessing,  deeply  blest, 

In  gladd'ning,  full  of  gladness. 

The  choicest  happiness  there  is. 

The  glorious  Godhead's  perfect  bliss, 

Is  born  of  doing  good; 
He  looks  around,  and  sees  the  eye 
Of  all  creation  spangled  by 

The  tear  of  gratitude  ! 

All  hail,  my  country's  noble  sons, 
Ye  Heaven-Sent  unselfish  ones, 

Who  every  realm  have  trod 
Smit  with  the  love  of  doing  good, — 
0  that  my  portion  with  you  stood! 

For  ye  are  like  your  GrOD ! 

And  lives  there  one,  who  never  felt 
His  heart  with  zeal  or  kindness  melt, 

Nor  ever  dropt  a  tear 
Of  sympathy  for  other's  woe? 
If  such  a  man  exist  below 

A  fiend  in  flesh  is  here. 

Brethren,  unsatisfied  with  earth. 
Who  feel  how  heartless  is  its  mirth 

How  transient  is  its  joy, 
Ye  may, — there  only  wants  the  will,— 
Your  dearest  hope  of  bliss  fulfil. 

Of  bliss  without  alloy : 


BENEVOLENOX. 

Most  glad  a  thing  it  is  and  sweet, 
To  sit  and  learn  at  Wisdom's  feet, 

And  hear  her  blessed  voice ; 
First  in  her  comforts  to  be  glad, 
And  then,  to  comfort  other  sad. 

And  teach  them  to  rejoice. 

How  sweet  it  is  to  link  again 
Estranged  affection's  broken  chain. 

And  soothe  the  sorrowing  breast; 
To  be  the  favour'd  one  that  may 
Recall  to  love  hearts  torn  away. 

And  thus  by  both  be  blest. 

Rich  men  and  proud,  who  fain  would  find 
Some  new  indulgence  for  the  mind, 

Some  scheme  to  gladden  self, 
If  ye  will  feed  the  famish'd  poor, 
Happiness  shall  ye  buy,  far  more 

Than  with  a  mint  of  pelf: 

Ye  cannot  see  the  tearful  eye. 
Ye  cannot  hear  the  grateful  sigh. 

Nor  feel  yourselves  beloved 
By  the  pale  children  of  distress 
Whom  ye  have  been  the  gods  to  bless, — 

AV^ith  hearts  unthrill'd,  unmoved. 

And  you,  who  love  your  fcUow-men, 
And  feel  a  sacred  transport,  when 

Ye  can  that  love  fulfil, — 
Go,  rescue  yonder  tortured  brute. 
Its  gratitude  indeed  is  mute, 

But,  oh !  it  loves  you  still. 


BENEVOLENCE.  82, 

Children  of  science,  who  delight 
To  track  out  wisdom's  beauty  bright 

In  earth,  or  sea,  or  sky, — 
While  nature's  lovely  face  you  scan, 
Go,  seek  and  save  some  erring  man, 

And  set  his  hope  on  high! 

But  still  reflect  that  all  the  good 
Ye  do,  demands  your  gratitude, 

For  'tis  a  heav'nly  boon, 
That  should  for  its  own  sake  be  sought. 
Though  to  itself  is  kindly  brought 

A  blessing  sweet  and  soon : 

It  is  reward  to  imitate, 
In  comforting  the  desolate. 

That  gracious  one  who  stood 
A  ransom  for  a  ruin'd  world. 
And  still.  Himself  to  ruin  hurl'd, 

Found  evil  for  His  good : 

And  what  an  argument  for  pray'r 
Hath  yearning  Mercy  written  there, 

For  if  indeed  "  to  give 
Is  blessed  rather  than  the  gift  "^ 
Go  ye,  to  heaven  the  voice  uplift, 

And  then  ye  must  receive. 


322  A    CABINKT    OF    FOSSILS. 


%  C^nhinrt  of  /nssils. 

Come,  and  behold  with  curious  eye 

These  records  of  a  world  gone  by, 

These  tell-tales  of  the  youth  of  time, — 

When  changes,  sudden,  vast,  sublime, 

(From  Chaos,  and  fair  Order's  birth. 

To  the  last  flood  that  drown'd  the  earth, — ) 

Shatter'd  the  crust  of  this  young  world, 

Into  the  seas  its  mountains  hurl'd. 

And  upon  boisterous  surges  strong 

Bore  the  broad  ruins  far  along 

To  pave  old  ocean's  shingly  bed. 

While  bursting  upwards  in  their  stead 

The  lowest  granites  towering  rose 

To  pierce  the  clouds  with  crested  snows, 

Where  future  Apennine  or  Alp 

Bared  to  high  heav'n  its  icy  scalp. 

Look  on  these  coins  of  kingdoms  old. 
These  medals  of  a  broken  mould : 
These  corals  in  the  green  hill-side. 
These  fruits  and  flowers  beneath  the  tide, 
These  struggling  flies  in  amber  found, 
These  huge  pine-forests  underground, 
These  flint  gea-eggs,  with  curious  bosses. 
These  fibred  ferns,  and  fruited  mosses 
Lying  as  in  water  spread, 
And  stone-struck  by  some  Gorgon's  head ! 
The  chambers  of  this  graceful  shell, 
So  delicately  form'd, —  so  well. 
None  can  declare  what  years  have  past 
8ince  life  hath  tenanted  it  last. 


A     CABIN  KT    OF     FOSSILS.  Z2h 

What  countless  centuries  have  flown 
Since  age  hath  made  the  shell  a  stone: 
Graze  with  me  on  those  jointed  stems, 
A  living  plant  of  starry  gems, 
And  on  that  sea-flower,  light  and  fair, 
Which  shoots  its  leaves  in  agate  there: 
Behold  these  giant  rihs  in  stone 
Of  mighty  monsters,  long  unknown. 
That  in  some  antemundane  flood 
Wallow'd  on  continents  of  mud, 
A  lizard  race,  but  well  for  man. 
Dead  long  before  his  day  began. 
Monsters,  through  Providence  extinct. 
That  crocodiles  to  fishes  link'd; 
And  shreds  of  other  forms  beside 
That  sported  in  the  yeasty  tide. 
Or,  flapping  far  with  dragon-wing. 
On  the  slow  tortoise  wont  to  spring, 
Or,  ambush'd  in  the  rushes  rank, 
Watch'd  the  dull  mammoth  on  the  bank, 
Or  loved  the  green  and  silent  deep. 
Or  on  the  coral-reef  to  sleep. 
Where  many  a  rood,  in  passive  strength. 
The  scaly  reptiles  lay  at  length. 

For  there  are  wonders,  wondrous  strange. 
To  those  who  will  through  nature  range, 
And  use  the  mind,  and  clear  the  eye. 
And  let  instruction  not  pass  by : 
There  arc  deep  thoughts  of  tranquil  joy 
For  those  who  thus  their  hearts  employ. 
And  trace  the  wise  design  that  lurks 
In  holy  nature's  meanest  works. 
And  by  tlie  torch  of  truth  discern 
The  happy  lessons  good  men  learn : 


821  A    CABINET    OF    FOSSILS. 

0  there  are  pleasures,  sweet  and  new, 
To  those  who  thus  creation  view, 
And,  as  on  this  wide  world  they  look, 
Regard  it  as  one  mighty  book. 
Inscribed  within,  before,  behind, 
With  workings  of  the  Master-mind; 
Ray'd  with  that  Wisdom,  which  excels 
In  fmming  worlds, — or  fretting  shells,— 
Fill'd  with  that  Mercy,  which  delights 
In  blessing  mammoths,  men,  or  mites, — 
With  silent  deep  Benevolence, 
With  hidden  mild  Omnipotence, 
With  order's  everlasting  laws. 
With  seen  effect,  and  secret  cause, 
Justice  and  truth  in  all  things  rife, 
Filling  the  world  with  love  and  life. 
And  teaching  from  creation  round 
How  good  the  God  of  all  is  found. 
His  handiwork  how  vast,  how  kind, 
How  prearranged  by  clearest  mind. 
How  glorious  in  His  own  estate, 
A::d  in  His  smallest  works  how  aREAt. 


fiu  f  salms. 


L— PSALM  I. 

Blest  is  the  man  who  walketh  not 

In  sinners'  evil  ways; 
Nor  with  the  wicked  joins  his  lot, 

Nor  gives  the  scomer  praise: 


FTVEPSALM8.  825 

But  all  his  solace  and  delight 

Is  in  his  Father's  word, — 
His  meditation  day  and  night, 

The  doctrine  of  the  Lord. 

As  some  green  tree  near  flowing  streams 

That  yields  its  timely  fruit, 
Unblighted  still  his  foliage  seems, — 

He  prospers,  branch  and  root. 

Not  so  the  ungodly;  they  are  all 

Like  chaff"  before  the  blast; 
In  the  dread  judgment  they  shall  fall, 

And  perish  at  the  last: 

For  the  Lord  loveth,  and  doth  keep 

The  good  man  day  by  day; 
But  as  for  sinners.  He  shall  sweep 

And  scatter  them  away! 


IL  — PSALM  XIX. 

Heaven  declares  its  Maker's  glory, 

And  the  firmament  His  might; 
Day  to  day  the  wondrous  story 

Echoes  on,  and  night  to  night; 
All  is  silence,  yet  Creation 

Knows  and  hears  that  voiceless  speech 
Which  to  every  tribe  and  nation 

Doth  their  Maker's  glory  teach. 

From  his  chamber  bright  in  heaven 
Lo,  the  bridegroom  of  the  earth 

Gladness  by  his  smile  hath  given, 
And  awakes  the  mom  to  mirth : 


FIVE    PSALMS. 

Not  less  full  of  life  and  pleasure 
Is  God's  truth  nor  loss  complete; 

'Tis  more  precious  than  all  treasure, 
Than  the  honej'comb  more  sweet. 

It  rejoices,  heals,  and  teaches, 

Ever  holy,  just,  and  good; 
To  the  inmost  feeling  reaches, 

And  leads  up  the  heart  to  GoD : 
Wam'd  by  that,  thy  servant  tumeth 

To  the  path  that  tends  to  bliss; 
Yet,  who  all  his  faults  discerneth? 

Cleanse  me,  if  I  err  in  this.. 

Let  not  pride  be  ruler  in  me. 

But  deliver,  guide,  forgive : 
Thus,  corruption  quench'd  within  ma, 

I  shall  be  upright  and  live. 
Let  my  words  and  meditation, 

Ever  pleasing  in  Thy  sight. 
Meet  with  gracious  acceptation. 

My  Redeemer  and  my  Might! 


m.  — PSALM  XX. 

God  in  time  of  trouble  hear  thee, 

And  the  name  of  Jacob's  Lord 
From  His  sanctuary  near  thee. 

Out  of  Zion  help  afford ; 
Crown  thy  sacrifice  with  fire. 

All  thy  gifts  remember  still, 
Grant  thee  all  thy  heart's  desire, 

And  thy  choicest  wish  fulfil! 


FIVE    PSALMS.  827 

We  will  joy  in  Thy  salvation, 

And  will  set  our  banners  high 
In  our  God! — Thy  supplication 

Be  accomplish'd  at  thy  cry. 
Now  I  know  the  Lord  from  heaven 

Saveth  still  His  Christ  from  harm; 
Now  to  Him  will  strength  be  given 

By  the  might  of  His  right  arm. 

Some  in  chariots,  some  in  horses,—  • 

We  in  God  Jehovah  trust; 
And  while  He  our  sure  Resource  is, 

They  are  fallen  in  the  dust: 
Save,  Jehovah,  save  and  hear  us, 

King  of  glory,  King  of  might! 
When  we  call  be  ever  near  us, — 

Ever  for  Thy  servants  fight! 


IV.  — PSALM  LXXXV. 

Lord,  Thou  hast  shower'd  on  Thy  land 

Thy  favourable  grace; 
Thou  hast  brought  home  again  the  band 

Of  Jacob's  captive  race : 
Thou  hast  forgiven  Thy  people's  crimes 

And  wash'd  away  their  sin. 
From  Thy  fierce  anger  tum'd  betimes, 

And  rcin'd  Thy  vengeance  in ! 

Turn  us,  0  God  that  saveth  us, — 
And  bid  Thine  anger  cease : 

Wilt  Thou  in  wrath  be  ever  thus, 
Nor  smile  on  us  in  peace? 

0  wilt  Thou  not  Thy  work  revive. 
That  we  may  joy  in  Thee? 

Yea,  Lord,  Thy  constant  mercy  give, 
22  And  Thy  salvation  free ! 


FIVE    PSALMS. 


v.  — PSALM  CXLIV. 

Blessed  be  the  Lord  my  might, 
Who  hath  taught  my  soul  to  fight, 
Castle,  Saviour,  hope,  and  friend, 
Whom  I  trust  all  help  to  send. 

Lord,  what  is  man,  or  what  his  son, 
That  thou  regardest  such  an  one? 
A  thing  of  nought:  his  little  day 
Passeth  shadow-like  away. 

Bow  Thy  heavens.  Lord!  return. 
Touch  the  mountains  that  they  bum, 
Forth  Thy  scathing  lightnings  cast, 
With  Thy  shafts  consume  them  fasti 

Send  Thy  power  from  on  high. 
Rescue  me,  for  ever  nigh, 
Save  me  from  the  drowning  wave. 
From  these  wicked  children  save  I 

God,  to  Thee  new  songs  I  sing, 
On  my  lute  new  praise  I  bring, — 
To  kings  Thou  givest  victory,  Lord, 
And  savest  David  from  the  sword. 

Help,  and  save  me  from  the  hand 
Of  children,  strangers  in  the  land; 
For  their  mouths  are  lies  within. 
And  their  right  hands  red  with  sin. 

That  our  sons  may  grow  in  good 
Like  young  saplings  of  the  wood, 
And  our  daughters  may  be  seen 
As  Thy  temple  pure  and  clean: 


FIVE    PSALMS  829 

That  our  garners  more  and  more 
May  be  full  with  various  store, 
That  our  teeming  sheep  may  yield 
Thousand-fold  in  street  and  field: 

That  our  oxen's  sturdy  toil 
Brain  the  treasures  of  the  soil; 
None  in  bonds  be  led  away, 
No  complaining,  no  decay. 

Happy  people !  prosper'd  so. 
Blest  beyond  all  bliss  below; 
Blest  who  have,  all  gods  above. 
For  their  God  the  Lord  of  love  1 


fflnumr  rmnfartrli.    1833. 

Brother,  dear  brother,  weep  no  more  for  me  I 

My  lot  is  blessedness, — an  heritage 

Of  Praise,  and  Peace,  and  Immortality, 

And  Joy  unspeakable !  above  me  smiles 

The  Eye  of  tenderest  love,  and  underneath 

Sustain  me  safe  the  Everlasting  Arms! 

/  am  not  dead, — my  spirit  is  not  dead, 

But  rests  in  Jesus,  the  dear  hiding-place 

Of  ransom 'd  happy  souls, — for  I  am  His;  — 

My  God  hath  wiped  all  sorrow  from  mine  eye, 

All  sin  from  my  fair  soul;  Eternal  Love 

For  pain  hath  given  me  Peace, — for  fear,  fixt  hope, 

For  Life's  deceitful  cup  of  bitterness, 

Rivers  of  pleasantness  and  seas  of  joy. 

Ah,  who  can  speak  it,  who  can  think  it,  there, — 


THE    MOURNER    COMFORTED. 

Where  the  frail  prison  of  Mortality 

Holds  pent  the  slumbering  soul?     Earth  hath  no  words, 

And  earthborn  no  ideas  of  infinite, 

Unutterable,  overwhelming  bliss. 

O  blest  exchange !  0  gain  beyond  compare ! 

O  Glory,  brighter  for  the  foil  of  Time, 

0  deepest  happiness,  more  exquisite 

For  a  short  Life's  remember'd  tale  of  sorrow ! 
Weep  not,  dear  brother, — weep  no  more  for  me 

Yes, — from  the  dream  of  Time  I  woke  in  peace: 
And  one  fierce  struggle  over,  all  was  calm. 
Awhile  I  lay  entranced, —  in  that  sweet  rest 
The  Sabbath  of  the  Soul,  e'er  yet  it  speeds 
To  choirs  of  perfect  praise,  and  bliss  intense. 
And  soon  two  infant  cherubs  on  bright  wings 
— My  sainted  little  brothers, — flow  to  me, 
Kiss'd  me,  and  wept  for  joy,  as  angels  weep. 
"For  it  is  ours,"  they  said,  "our  great  reward. 
By  His  dear  will  preferr'd  before  all  others. 
On  either  hand  to  lead  thee  to  our  God." 
Wing'd  with  ecstatic  hope  upsprung  my  Soul, — 
And  through  the  glorious  hosts  of  happy  ones. 
From  bliss  to  bliss,  from  heav'n  to  heav'n,  upsprung. 
Catching  swift  echoes  of  melodious  praise. 
Till  at  the  rapturous  height  of  highest  joy 

1  stood  before  the  Throne !  and  there  was  He, 
He,  whom  a  brother's  counsel  bade  me  seek. 
He,  whom  at  midnight's  hour  a  mother's  ear 
With  tears  and  prayers  had  often  heard  me  seek,— 

0  there  was  He  !  my  Saviour  and  my  Friend, — 
My  Sacrifice,  my  Heav'n,  my  All,  my  God  ! 

— Brother,  in  earthly  words  and  earthly  thoughts 

1  cannot  tell  thee  more :  but  would  speak  peace, 
Peace  to  thy  troubled  soul, —  where  peace  there  is. 
O  climax  to  my  joys, —  strength  to  your  hopes. 


THE    MOUENER    COMFORTED.  831 

In  the  bright  book  of  Life  are  written  fair 

The  names  of  those  I  loved !     Blest  family, 

Children  of  hope,  and  Heaven,  and  God  !     His  love 

With  tears  of  chasten'd  grief  hath  gemm'd  your  crowns, 

That,  by  a  Father's  wisdom  mingling  well 

Life's  cup  with  sorrows,  ye  may  deeper  drink 

Of  grace  on  earth,  of  glory  with  our  G-OD. 

Yes,  there  are  crowns  and  mansions  for  you  all, 

Ye  loved,  and  happy  ones !  a  crown  for  thee, 

Dear  mother,  who  so  tenderly  hast  led 

Our  infant  steps  to  paths  of  pleasantness;  — 

Crowns  for  you  both,  my  sisters;  —  and  for  thee, 

Whom  the  dark  storm  of  unbelieving  feara 

Hath  sorely  tost, — my  brother, —  even  for  thee 

From  deeper  trouble  rises  higher  bliss ! 

Peace  to  you  all,  for  Jesus  is  your  peace. 

Your  peace  and  mine :  be  comforted  with  me. 

For  we  are  one,  as  ever,  one  in  Him. 

Though  now  ye  see  me  not,  I  can  see  you; 
Though  ye  hear  not  my  praise,  your  groans  I  hear. 
I  watch'd,  unwatch'd,  and  long'd  to  wipe  away 
The  bitter  tears  that  fell  to  weep  my  gain  : 
I  watch'd,  when  on  my  prison-house  of  lead. 
That  held  the  alter'd  form  ye  lately  loved, 
A  mother's  fondness  wildly  prest  a  kiss; 
I  watch'd  the  friend  approved,  on  whom  she  leant; 
And  to  their  mournful  homes  in  cot  or  hall 
I  watch'd  the  dark  procession  silent  creep. 
Then  was  I  with  you,  and  am  with  you  still, 
A  free,  unshackled  spirit, —  loving  you. 
And  ministering  grace  to  you  from  God  ! 
Think  not  of  what  I  was,  but  what  I  am, — 
Gaze  not  on  those  "dear  lineaments  defaced,'' 
NoF  brood  on  foul  corruption's  gloomy  pit: 


THE    MOn»NER    COMFORTED. 

Bather  look  up;  —  I  live!  —  0  speed,  blest  hour, 
When  to  the  spirit  made  perfect  the  bright  body, 
BurstiDg  the  bars  of  Death,  shall  reunite, 
And  meet  the  King  of  Glory  in  the  skies ! 


€^t  ^nuls  Df  %min,    1832. 

Inoertiu  erro  per  loo*  deTia." — Hob. 

Are  these  then  made  in  vain?  is  man  alone 

Of  all  the  marvels  of  creative  love 

Blest  with  a  scintillation  of  His  essence, 

The  heavenly  spark  of  reasonable  soul? 

And  hath  not  yon  sagacious  dog,  that  finds 

A  meaning  in  the  shepherd's  idiot  face, 

Or  the  huge  elephant  that  lends  his  strength 

To  drag  the  stranded  galley  to  the  shore, 

And  strives  with  emulative  pride  to  excel 

The  mindless  crowd  of  slaves  that  toil  beside  him. 

Or  the  young  generous  war-horse,  when  he  sniffs 

The  distant  field  of  blood,  and  quick  and  shrill 

Neighing  for  joy,  instils  a  desperate  courage 

Into  the  veteran  trooper's  quailing  heart, — 

Have  they  not  all  an  evidence  of  soul 

(Of  soul,  the  proper  attribute  of  man,) 

The  same  in  kind,  though  meaner  in  degree? 

Why  should  not  that  which  hath  been, —  be  for  ever? 

And  death, —  0  can  it  be  annihilation  ? 

No, —  though  the  stolid  atheist  fondly  clings 

To  that  last  hope,  how  kindred  to  despair ! 

No, — 'tis  the  struggling  spirit's  hour  of  joy. 

The  glad  emancipation  of  the  soul. 


THE    SOULS    OF    BRUTES.  SS8 

The  moment  when  the  cumbrous  fetters  drop, 
And  the  bright  spirit  wings  its  way  to  heaven ! 
To  say  that  God  annihilated  aught 
Were  to  declare  that  in  an  unwise  hour 
He  plannM  and  made  somewhat  superfluous: 
Why  should  not  the  mysterious  life,  that  dwells 
In  reptiles  as  in  men,  and  shows  itself 
In  memory,  gratitude,  love,  hate,  and  pride. 
Still  energize,  and  be,  though  death  may  crush 
Yon  frugal  ant,  or  thoughtless  butterfly, 
Or  with  the  simoon's  pestilential  gale 
Strike  down  the  patient  camel  in  the  desert? 

There  is  one  chain  of  intellectual  soul, 
In  many  links  and  various  grades,  throughout 
The  scale  of  nature;  from  the  climax  bright 
The  first  great  Cause  of  all.  Spirit  supreme, 
Incomprehensible  and  unconfined. 
To  high  archangels  blazing  near  the  throne. 
Seraphim,  cherubim,  virtues,  juds,  and  powers, 
All  capable  of  perfection  in  their  kind ;  — 
To  man,  as  holy  from  his  Maker's  hand 
He  stood,  in  possible  excellence  complete, 
(Man,  who  is  destined  now  to  brighter  glories. 
As  nearer  to  the  present  GoD,  in  One 
His  Lord  and  substitute, —  than  angels  reach  :) 
Then  man  as  fall'n,  with  every  varied  shade 
Of  character  and  capability. 
From  him  who  reads  his  title  to  the  skies. 
Or  grasps  with  giant  mind  all  nature's  wonders, 
Down  to  the  monster  shaped  in  human  form, 
Maniac,  slavering  fool,  or  blood-stain'd  savage: 
Then  to  the  prudent  elephant,  the  dog 
Half-humanized,  the  docile  Arab  horse, 
The  social  beaver,  and  contriving  fox, 


THE    SOULS    OF    BRUTES. 

The  parrot,  quick  in  pertinent  reply, 

The  kind-affection'd  seal,  and  patriot  bee, 

The  merchantrstoring  ant,  and  wintering  swallow, 

With  all  those  other  palpable  emanations 

And  energies  of  one  eternal  Mind 

Pervading  and  instructing  all  that  live, 

Down  to  the  sentient  grass,  and  shrinking  clay. 

In  truth,  I  see  not  why  the  breath  of  life. 

Thus  omnipresent  and  upholding  all, 

Should  not  return  to  Him,  and  be  immortal, 

(I  dare  not  say  the  same)  in  some  glad  state 

Originally  destined  for  creation. 

As  well  from  brutish  bodies,  as  from  man. 

The  uncertain  glimmer  of  analogy 

Suggests  the  thought,  and  reason's  shrewder  guess; 

Yet  revelation  whispers  nought  but  this, 

*'Our  Father  careth  when  a  sparrow  dies," 

And  that  "the  spirit  of  a  brute  descends" 

As  to  some  secret  and  preserving  Had6s. 

But  for  some  better  life,  in  what  strange  sort 

Were  justice,  mix'd  with  mercy,  dealt  to  these? — 

Innocent  slaves  of  sordid  guilty  man. 

Poor  unthank'd  drudges,  toiling  at  his  will, 

Pamper'd  in  youth,  and  haply  starved  in  age, 

Obedient,  faithful,  gentle, —  though  the  spur 

Wantonly  cruel,  or  unsparing  thong 

Weal  your  gall'd  hides,  or  your  strain'd  sinews  crack 

Beneath  the  crushing  load, —  what  recompense 

Can  He,  who  gave  you  being,  render  you 

If  in  the  rank  full  harvest  of  your  griefs 

Ye  sink  annihilated,  to  the  shame 

Of  government  unequal  ? — In  that  day 

When  crime  is  sentenced,  shall  the  cruel  heart 

Boast  nncondemn'd,  because  no  tortured  brute 


THE    SOULS    OP    BRUTES. 

Stands  there  accusing?  shall  the  embodied  deeds 

Of  man  not  follow  him,  nor  the  rescued  fly 

Bear  its  kind  witness  to  the  saving  hand? 

Shall  the  mild  Brahmin  stand  in  equal  sin 

Regarding  nature's  menials,  with  the  wretch 

Who  flays  the  moaning  Abyssinian  ox. 

Or  roasts  the  living  bird,  or  flogs  to  death 

The  famishing  pointer? — and  must  these  again, 

These  poor  unguilty  uncomplaining  victims 

Have  no  reward  for  life  with  its  sharp  pains? — 

They  have  my  suffrage:  Nineveh  was  spared. 

Though  Jonah  prophesied  its  doom,  for  sake 

Of  six-score  thousand  infants,  and  "much  cattle;" 

And  space  is  wide  enough,  for  every  grain 

Of  the  broad  sands  that  curb  our  swelling  seas 

Each  separate  in  its  sphere  to  stand  apart 

As  far  as  sun  from  sun :  there  lacks  not  room, 

Nor  time,  nor  care,  where  all  is  infinite : 

And  still  I  doubt:  it  is  a  Gordian  knot, 

A  dark  deep  riddle,  rich  with  curious  thoughts; 

Yet  let  me  tell  a  trivial  incident. 

And  draw  thine  own  conclusion  from  my  tale. 

Paris  kept  holiday;  a  merrier  sight 

The  crowded  Champs  Elysees  never  saw : 

Loud  pealing  laughter,  songs,  and  flageolets. 

And  giddy  dances  round  the  shadowing  elms. 

Green  vistas  thronged  with  thoughtless  multitudes, 

Traitorous  processions,  frivolous  pursuits, 

And  pleasures  full  of  sin, —  the  loud  "  hurra  !" 

And  fierce  enthusiastic  "Vive  la  nation!" — 

Were  these  thy  ways  and  works,  0  godlike  man, 

Monopolist  of  mind,  great  patentee 

Of  truth,  and  sense,  and  reasonable  sotJ? — 

My  heart  was  sick  with  gaiety;  nor  less, 


TTIK    SOULS    OP    BRUTK8. 

When  (sod,  sod  contrast  to  the  sensual  scene) 

I  mark'd  a  single  hearse  through  the  dense  crowd 

Move  on  its  noiseless  melancholy  way: 

The  blazing  sun  half  quench'd  it  with  his  beams, 

And  show'd  it  but  more  sorrowful :  I  gazed 

And  gazed  with  wonder  that  no  feeling  heart, 

No  solitary  Man  foUow'd  to  note 

The  spot  where  poor  mortality  must  sleep: 

Alas !  it  was  a  friendless  child  of  sorrow, 

That  stole  unheeded  to  the  house  of  Death ! 

My  heart  beat  strong  with  sympathy,  and  loathed 

The  noisy  follies  that  were  buzzing  round  me. 

And  I  resolved  to  watch  him  to  his  grave. 

And  give  a  man  his  fellow-sinner's  tear: 

I  left  the  laughing  crowd,  and  quickly  gain'd 

That  dreary  hearse,  and  found, —  he  was  not  friendless! 

Yes,  there  was  one,  one  only,  faithful  found 

To  that  forgotten  wanderer, —  his  dog  ! 

And  there,  with  measured  step,  and  drooping  head, 

And  tearful  eye,  paced  on  the  stricken  mourner. 

Yes,  I  remember  how  my  bosom  ached 

To  see  its  sensible  face  look  up  to  mine 

As  in  confiding  sympathy, —  and  howl : 

Yes,  I  can  never  forget  what  grief  unfeign'd. 

What  true  love,  and  unselfish  gratitude, 

That  poor,  bereaved,  and  soulless  dog  betray'd. 

Ah,  give  me,  give  me  such  a  friend,  I  cried; 

Yon  myriad  fools  and  knaves  in  human  guise 

Compared  with  thee,  poor  cur,  are  vain  and  worthless, 

While  man,  who  claims  a  soul  exclusively. 

Is  shamed  by  yonder  "mere  machine," — a  dog  I 

"Equidem  credo  quia  sit  Dirinitus  illis  ingeniam."— TnOt 


THE    CHAMOIS    HUNTEE. 


€^t  C^jjnranis  Muhi.    1829, 

A  LESSON  OF  LIFE. 

The  scene  was  bathed  in  beauty  rare, 
For  Alpine  grandeur  toppled  there, 

With  emerald  spots  between; 
A  summer-evening's  blush  of  rose 
All  faintly  warm'd  the  crested  snows 

And  tinged  the  valleys  green; 

Night  gloom'd  apace,  and  dark  on  high 
The  thousand  banners  of  the  sky 

Their  awful  width  unfurl'd, 
Veiling  Mont  Blanc's  majestic  brow, 
That  seem'd  among  its  cloud-wrapt  snow, 

The  ghost  of  some  dead  world : 

When  Pierre  the  hunter  cheerly  went 
To  scale  the  Catton's  battlement 

Before  the  peep  of  day; 
He  took  his  rifle,  pole,  and  rope. 
His  heart  and  eyes  alight  with  hope, 

He  hasted  on  his  way. 

He  cross'd  the  vale,  he  hurried  on. 
He  forded  the  cold  Arveron, 

The  first  rough  terrace  gain'd. 
Threaded  the  fir-wood's  gloomy  belt, 
And  trod  the  snows  that  never  melt, 

And  to  the  summit  strain'd. 


THE    CHAMOIS    HUNTER. 

Over  the  top,  as  he  knew  well, 
Beyond  the  glacier  in  the  dell 

A  herd  of  chamois  slept, 
So  down  the  other  dreary  side, 
With  cautious  tread,  or  careless  slide, 

He  bounded,  or  he  crept. 

And  now  he  nears  the  chasmed  ice; 
He  stoops  to  leap, —  and  in  a  trice, 

His  foot  hath  slipp'd, —  0  heaven  I 
He  hath  leapt  in,  and  down  he  falls 
Between  those  blue  tremendous  walls, 

Standing  asunder  riven ! 

But  quick  his  clutching  nervous  grasp 
Contrives  a  jutting  crag  to  clasp. 

And  thus  he  hangs  in  air;  — 
O  moment  of  exulting  bliss ! 
Yet  hope  so  nearly  hopeless  is 

Twin-brother  to  despair. 

He  look'd  beneath, — a  horrible  doom  ! 
Some  thousand  yards  of  deepening  gloom. 

Where  he  must  drop  to  die ! 
He  look'd  iibovc,  and  many  a  rood 
Upright  the  frozen  ramparts  stood 

Around  a  speck  of  sky. 

Seven  long  dreadful  hours  he  hung. 
And  often  by  strong  breezes  swung 

His  fainting  body  twists; 
Scarce  can  he  cling  one  moment  more, 
His  half-dead  hands  are  ice,  and  sore 

His  burning  bursting  wrists; 


THE    CHAMOIS    HUNTER.  889 

His  head  grows  dizzy, — he  must  drop, 
He  half  resolves, — but  stop,  0  stop, 

Hold  on  to  the  last  spasm, 
Never  in  life  give  up  your  hope, —  « 

Behold,  behold  a  friendly  rope 

Is  dropping  down  the  chasm! 

They  call  thee,  Pierre, —  see,  see  them  here, 
Thy  gather'd  neighbours  far  and  near, 

Courage!  man,  hold  on  fast: — 
And  so  from  out  that  terrible  place, 
With  death's  pale  paint  upon  his  face, 

They  drew  him  up  at  last. 

And  he  came  home  an  alter'd  man. 
For  many  harrowing  terrors  ran 

Through  his  poor  heart  that  day; 
He  thought  how  all  through  life,  though  young, 
Upon  a  thread,  a  hair,  he  hung, 

Over  a  gulf  midway: 

He  thought  what  fear  it  were  to  fall 
Into  the  pit  that  swallows  all,* 

Unwing'd  with  hope  and  love; 
And  when  the  succour  came  at  last, 
0  then  he  leantt  how  firm  and  £ut 

Was  his  best  Friend  above. 


REPEOOF. 


Be  aahamed  for  your  reserve, 
Be  ashamed;  — 
It  is  not  what  I  deserve, 

Be  ashamed;  — 
By  my  heart,  and  by  mind 
Willing,  warm,  and  well-inclined, 
Let  your  greeting  be  more  kind,— 
Be  ashamed. 

Be  assured  it's  little  wise. 
Be  assured, — 

So  to  chill  your  hand  and  eyes, 
Be  assured, — 

My  humility  can  wait. 

But  your  love  may  come  too  late, 

Pride  will  soon  be  out  of  date,— 
Be  assured. 


A  NEwmcATE  IN  1830. 

Go,  child  of  pity,  wateh  the  sullen  glare 
That  lights  the  haggard  features  of  despair 
As  upon  dying  guilt's  distracted  sight 
Rise  the  black  clouds  of  everlasting  night; 
Drink  in  the  fever'd  eyeball's  dismal  ray. 
And  gaze  again, —  and  turn  not  yet  away, 


THE    AFRICAN    DESERT. 

Drink  in  its  angmsh,  till  thy  heart  and  eye 
Reel  with  the  draught  of  that  sad  lethargy : 
Till  Gloom  with  chilling  fears  thy  soul  congeal, 
And  on  thy  bosom  stamp  his  leaden  seal, 
Till  Melancholy  flap  her  heavy  wings 
Above  thy  fancy's  light  imaginings, 
And  Sorrow  wrap  thee  in  her  sable  shroud, 
And  Terror  in  a  gathering  thunder-cloud  I 

Go,  call  up  Darkness  from  his  dread  abode, 

Bid  Desolation  fling  her  curse  abroad, 

— Then  gaze  around  on  nature! — ah,  how  drear, 

How  widow-like  she  sits  in  sadness  here : 

Lost  are  the  glowing  tints,  the  softening  shades. 

Her  sunny  meadows,  and  her  greenwood  glades; 

No  grateful  flower  has  gemm'd  its  mother-earth. 

Rejoicing  in  the  blessedness  of  birth; 

No  blitheseme  lark  has  waked  the  drowsy  day. 

No  sorrowing  dews  have  wept  themselves  away: 

Faded, —  the  smiles  that  dimpled  in  her  vales; 

Scatter'd,  the  fragrance  of  the  spicy  gales 

That  dew'd  her  locks  with  odours,  as  they  swept 

The  waving  groves,  or  in  the  rose-bud  slept. 

Is  this  the  desert?  this  the  blighted  plain 
Where  Silence  holds  her  melancholy  reign, — 
Where  foot  of  daring  mortal  scarce  hath  trod. 
But  all  around  is  solitude  —  and  God, — 
And  where  the  sandy  billows  overwhelm 
All  but  young  Fancy's  visionary  realm. 
In  which,  beneath  the  red  moon's  sickly  glance 
Fantastic  forms  prolong  the  midnight  dance, 
And  pigmy  warriors,  marshall'd  on  the  plains, 
Shout  high  defiance  to  the  invading  cranes? 


THX    AFRICAN    DESERT. 

Begions  of  sorrow, —  darkly  have  ye  frown'd 

Amidst  a  sunny  world  of  smiles  around : 

Luxurious  Persia,  bower'd  in  rosy  bloom, 

Breathes  the  sweet  air  of  Araby's  perfume, 

And  where  Italian  suns  in  glory  shine 

To  the  green  olive  clings  the  tendrill'd  vine; 

In  yon  soft  bosom  of  Iberia's  vales 

The  orange-blossom  scents  the  lingering  gales, 

That  waft  its  sweets  to  where  Madeira's  plain 

With  emerald  beauty  gems  the  western  main : 

The  winds  that  o'er  the  rough  iEgaen  sweep. 

Tamed  into  zephyrs,  on  its  islands  sleep ; 

And  where  rich  Delta  drinks  the  swelling  Nile, 

Auspicious  Ceres  spreads  her  golden  smile. 

But  on  Sahara  death  has  set  his  throne, 

And  reigns  in  sullen  majesty  alone : 

Unfurl'd  on  high  above  the  desert-king 

The  red  simoom  spreads  forth  its  fiery  wing; 

The  spirits  of  the  storm  his  bidding  wait, 

Gigantic  shadows  swell  his  awful  state. 

And  circling  furies  hover  round  his  head, 

To  crown  with  flames  the  Tyrant  of  the  Dead! 

The  desert  shrank  beneath  him,  as  he  pass'd, 

Borne  on  the  burning  pinions  of  the  blast; 

He  breathed, —  and  solitude  sat  pining  there; 

He  spake, — and  silence  hush'd  the  listening  air; 

He  frown'd, —  and  blighted  Nature  scarce  could  fly 

The  lightning  glances  of  her  monarch's  eye, 

But  where  he  look'd  in  withering  fury  down, 

A  dying  desert  knit  its  giant  frown  ! 

Desolate  wilds, —  creation's  barren  grave. 
Where  dull  as  Lethe  rolls  the  desert  wave. 
How  sparingly  with  warm  existence  rife 
Have  ye  rejoiced  in  love,  or  teem'd  with  life  I 


THE     AFRICA  X     DSSBHT.  848 

Can  it  then  be  ia  solitudes  so  drear, 

That  utter  Nothing  has  its  dwelling  here?  — 

Hence, —  thought  of  darkness  I  —  o'er  the  sandy  flood 

Broods  the  great  Spirit  of  a  present  God  : 

He  is,  where  other  being  may  not  be; 

Space  cannot  bind  Him, —  nor  infinity  ! 

Deeper  than  thought  has  ever  dared  to  stray. 

Higher  than  fancy  wing'd  her  wondering  way, 

Beyond  the  beaming  of  the  furthest  star, 

Beyond  the  pilgrim-comet's  distant  car, 

Beyond  all  worlds,  and  glorious  suns  unseen, 

He  is,  and  will  be,  and  has  ever  been ! 

Nor  less, —  where  the  huge  iceberg  lifts  its  head, 

Dim  as  a  dream,  from  ocean's  polar  bed; 

Or  where  in  softer  climes  creation  glows. 

And  Paphos  blushes  from  its  banks  of  rose, 

Or  where  fierce  suns  the  panting  desert  sear, — 

He  is,  and  was,  and  ever  will  be,  hereI 

But  would  thy  daring  spirit,  child  of  man, 
The  secret  chambers  of  the  desert  scan, 
Curtain'd  with  flames,  and  tenanted  by  death, 
Fanned  by  the  tempest  of  Sirocco's  breath? 
With  crested  Azrael  shall  a 'mortal  strive, 
Or  breathe  the  gales  of  pestilence,  and  live? 
0  then,  let  avarice  his  hand  refrain, 
Nor  tempt  the  billows  of  that  fiery  main. 
Let  patience,  toil,  and  courage  nobly  dare 
Far  other  deeds  than  fruitless  labours  there. 
Let  dauntless  enterprise,  with  generous  zeal, 
Toil,  not  unlaurell'd,  for  her  fellows'  weal, 
But  be  the  howling  wilderness  untrod. 
And  trackless  still,  Sahara's  barren  flood! 

Lo,  from  the  streaming  cast  a  blaze  of  light 
Has  swept  to  distant  shores  astonish'd  night| 
28 


4|||  THE    AFRICAN    DESERT. 

Darkness  has  snatch'd  his  spangled  robe  away, 

A.nd  in  full  glory  shines  the  new-born  day; 

Kejoice,  ye  flowery  vales, —  ye  verdant  isles 

With  the  glad  sunbeams  weave  your  rosy  smiles, 

The  bridegroom  of  the  earth  looks  down  in  love, 

And  blooms  in  freshen'd  beauty  from  above; 

Ye  waiting  dews,  leap  to  that  warm  embrace, 

With  fragrant  incense  bathe  his  blushing  face, 

Thou  earth,  be  robed  in  joy! — But  one  sad  plain 

Exults  not,  smiles  not,  to  the  mom  again : 

Soon  as  the  sun  is  all  in  glory  drest 

The  conscious  desert  heaves  its  troubled  breast. 

Like  one,  aroused  to  ceaseless  misery, 

That,  ever  dying,  strives  once  more  —  to  die. 

And  can  Sahara  weep  ?  with  sudden  blaze 

Deep  in  her  bosom  pierce  the  cruel  rays, 

But  never  thence  one  tributary  stream 

Shall  soar  aloft  to  quench  the  maddening  beam : 

Tearless  in  agony,  fixt  in  grief,  alone. 

Pines  the  sad  daughter  of  the  torrid  zone, 

A  rocky  monument  of  anguish  deep, 

The  Niobe  of  Nature  cannot  weep ! 

Yet  from  her  bosom  steapas  the  sandy  cloud, 

And  heavily  waves  above; — a  lurid  shroud. 

Dense  as  the  wing  of  sorrow,  flapping  o'er 

The  withered  heart,  that  may  not  blossom  more. 

Faint  o'er  that  burning  desert,  faint  and  slow, 
Failing  of  limb,  and  pale  with  looks  of  woe, 
Parch'd  by  the  hot  Sirdc,  and  fiery  ray, 
The  wearied  kafl^^  winds  its  toilsome  way. 
'Tis  long,  long  since  the  panther  bounded  by. 
And  howl'd,  and  gazed  upon  them  wistfully; 
Long  since  the  monarch  lion  from  his  lair 
Arose,  and  thunder'd  to  the  stagnant  air: 


THEAPRICANDESERT.  846 

No  wandering  ostrich  with  extended  wing 
Flaps  o'er  the  sands,  to  seek  the  distant  spring; 
Bounding  from  rock  to  rock,  with  curious  scan 
No  wild  gazelle  surveys  the  stranger,  man; 
Nor  does  the  famish'd  tiger's  lengthening  roar 
Speak  to  the  winds  and  wake  the  echoes  more. 

But  o'er  ihese  realms  of  sorrow,  drear  and  vast, 

In  hollow  dirges  moans  the  desert  blast. 

Or  breathing  o'er  the  plain  in  smother'd  wrath 

Howls  to  the  skulls,  that  whiten  on  the  path. 

And  as  with  heavy  tramp  they  toil  along, 

Is  heard  no  more  the  cheering  Arab  song, — 

No  more  the  wild  Bedouin's  joyous  shriek 

With  startling  homage  greets  his  wandering  shriek, 

Only  the  mutter'd  curse,  or  whisper'd  pray'r, 

Or  deep  death-rattle  wakes  the  sluggish  air. 

Behold  one  here,  who  till  to-day  has  been 

A  father,  and  with  bursting  bosom  seen 

His  last,  his  cherish'd  one,  whose  waning  eye 

Smiled  only  resignation,  droop  and  die ! 

Parch'd  by  the  heat,  those  lips  are  curl'd  and  pale, 

As  rose-leaves  withcr'd  in  the  northern  gale; 

Her  eye  no  more  its  silent  love  shall  speak, 

No  flush  of  life  shall  mantle  on  her  cheek;  — 

Yet  with  a  frenzied  fondness  to  his  child 

The  father  clung,  and  thought  his  darling  smiled; 

Ah,  yes!  'tis  death  that  o'er  her  beauty  throws 

That  marble  smile  of  deep  and  dread  repose. 

What  thrilling  shouts  are  these  that  rend  the  sky. 
Whence  is  the  joy  that  lights  the  sunken  eye? 
On,  on,  they  speed  their  burning  thirst  to  slake 
In  the  blue  waters  of  yon  rippled  lake, — 


THE    AFRICAN     DESERT. 

Or  must  thej  still  those  inuddening  pangs  assuage 
In  the  sand-billows  of  the  false  mirage  ? 
Lo,  the  fiiir  phantom,  melting  to  the  wind, 
Leaves  but  the  sting  of  baffled  bliss  behind. 

Hope  smiles  again,  a3  with  instinctive  haste 

The  panting  camels  rush  along  the  waste, 

And  snuff  the  grateful  breeze,  that  sweeping  by 

Wafts  its  cool  fragrance  through  the  cloudless  skj. 

Swift  as  the  steed  that  feels  the  slacken 'd  rein 

And  flies  impetuous  o'er  the  sounding  plain, 

Eager  as  bursting  from  an  Alpine  source 

The  winter  torrent  in  its  headlong  course, 

Still  hasting  on,  the  wearied  band  behold 

—  The  green  oase,  an  emerald  couch'd  in  gold  I 

And  now  the  curving  rivulet  they  descry, 

That  bow  of  hope  upon  a  stormy  sky. 

Now  ranging  its  luxuriant  banks  of  green 

In  silent  rapture  gaze  upon  the  scene : 

His  graceful  arms  the  palm  was  waving  there 

Caught  in  the  tall  acacia's  tangled  hair, 

While  in  festoons  across  his  branches  slung 

The  gay  kossdm  its  scarlet  tassels  hung; 

The  flowering  colocynth  had  studded  round 

Jewels  of  promise  o'er  the  joyful  ground. 

And  where  the  smile  of  day  burst  on  the  stream, 

The  trembling  waters  glitter'd  in  the  beam. 

It  comes,  the  blast  of  death  !  that  sudden  glare 
Tinges  with  purple  hues  the  stagnant  air; 
Fearful  in  silence,  o'er  the  heaving  strand 
Sweeps  the  wild  gale,  and  licks  the  curling  sand, 
While  o'er  the  vast  Sahara  from  afar 
Rushes  the  tempest  in  his  wingM  car: 
Swift  from  their  bed  the  flame-like  billows  rise, 
Whirling  and  surging  to  the  copper  skies, 


THE    AFRICAN     DKSERT.  847 

As  when  Briarcus  lifts  his  hundred  armS; 
Grasps  at  high  heaven,  and  fills  it  with  alarms; 
In  eddying  chaos  madly  mixt  on  high 
Gigantic  pillars  dance  along  the  sky,  ♦ 

Or  stalk  in  awful  slowness  through  the  gloom, 
Or  track  the  coursers  of  the  dread  simoom, 
Or  clashing  in  mid  air,  to  ruin  hurl'd, 
Fall  as  the  fragments  of  a  shatter'd  world ! 

Hush'd  is  the  tempest, — desolate  the  plain, 
Still'd  are  the  billows  of  that  troublous  main ; 
As  if  the  voice  of  death  had  check 'd  the  storm. 
Each  sandy  wave  retains  its  sculptured  form : 
And  all  is  silence, —  save  the  distant  blast 
That  howl'd,  and  mock'd  the  desert  as  it  pass'd; 
And  all  is  solitude, — for  where  are  they. 
That  o'er  Sahara  wound  their  toilsome  way  ? 
Ask  of  the  heav'ns  above,  that  smile  serene, 
Ask  that  burnt  spot,  no  more  of  lovely  green. 
Ask  of  the  whirlwind  in  its  purple  cloud, 
The  desert  is  their  grave,  the  sand  their  shroad. 


A  Newdioate  in  1831. 

0  GOLDEN  shores,  primeval  home  of  man, 
How  glorious  is  thy  dwelling,  Hindostan! 
Thine  are  these  smiling  valleys,  bright  with  bloom. 
Wild  woods,  and  sandal-groves,  that  breathe  perfume. 
Thine,  these  fair  skies, —  where  morn's  returning  ray 
Has  swept  the  starry  robe  of  night  away. 
And  gilt  each  dome,  and  minaret,  and  tower, 
Gemm'd  every  stream,  and  tinted  every  flower. 


348  THE    SUTTEES. 

But  dark  the  spirit  within  thee;  —  from  old  time 
Still  o'er  thee  rolls  the  whelming  flood  of  crime, 
Still  o'er  thee  broods  the  curse  of  guiltless  blood, 
That  shouts  for  vengeance  from  thy  reeking  sod : 
Deep-flowing  Ganges  in  his  rushy  bed 
Moans  a  sad  requiem  for  his  children  dead, 
And,  wafted  frequent  on  the  passing  gale, 
Rises  the  orphan's  sigh, —  the  widow's  wail. 

Hark,  'tis  the  rolling  of  the  funeral  drum. 

The  white-robed  Brahmins  see,  they  come,  they  come| 

Bringing,  with  frantic  shouts,  and  torch,  and  tirump, 

And  mingled  signs  of  melancholy  pomp. 

That  livid  corpse,  borne  solemnly  on  high — 

And  yon  faint  trembling  victim,  doom'd  to  die  I 

Still,  as  with  measured  step  they  move  along, 
With  fiercer  joy  they  weave  the  mystic  song : 
Eswara,  crown'd  with  forests,  thee  they  praise, 
Birmah,  to  thee  the  full-toned  chorus  raise; 
To  Ocean, —  where  the  loose  sail  mariners  furl, 
And  seek  in  coral  caves  the  virgin  pearl; 
And  to  the  source  of  Ganga's  sacred  streams. 
Bright  with  the  gold  of  Surya's  morning  beams, 
Where  on  her  lotus-throne  Varuna  sings. 
And  weeping  Peris  lave  their  azure  wings : 
They  shout  to  Kali,  of  the  red  right  hand. 
Bid  Aglys  toss  on  high  the  kindled  brand. 
And  far  from  Himalaya's  frozen  steep. 
In  whirlwind-car  bid  dark  Pavaneh  sweep : 
They  chant  of  one  whom  Azrael  waits  to  guide 
O'er  the  black  gulf  of  death's  unfathom'd  tide ; 
Of  her,  whose  spotless  life  to  Seeva  giv'n, 
Bursts  for  her  lord  the  golden  gates  of  heaVn, 
Of  her, —  who  thus  in  dreadful  triumph  led, 
Dares  the  unhallow'd  bridal  of  the  deadl 


THE    SUTTEES.  349 

And  there  in  silent  fear  she  stands  alone, 

The  desolate,  unpitied,  widow'd  one : 

Too  deeply  taught  in  life's  sad  tale  of  grief, 

In  the  calm  house  of  death  she  hopes  relief, 

For  few  the  pleasures  India's  daughter  knows, 

A  child  of  sorrow,  nursed  in  want  and  woes. 

Cursed  from  the  womb,  how  oft  a  mother's  fear 

In  silence  o'er  thee  dropt  the  bitter  tear. 

Lest  a  stem  sire  to  Ganga's  holy  wave 

Should  madly  consecrate  the  life  he  gave : 

Cradled  on  superstition's  sable  wing 

In  joyless  gloom  pass'd  childhood's  early  spring, 

And  still,  as  budded  fair  thy  youthful  mind. 

None  bade  thee  seek,  none  taught  thee,  truth  to  find: 

Poor  child  I  that  never  raised  the  suppliant  pray'r. 

Nor  look'd  to  heaven,  and  saw  a  Father  there, 

Untutor'd  by  religion's  gentle  sway 

To  love,  believe,  be  happy,  and  obey. 

Betroth'd  in  artless  infancy  to  one 

Thy  warm  affections  never  bcam'd  upon, 

How  shouldst  thou  smile,  when  ripe  in  beauty's  pride 

The  haughty  Rajah  claim'd  his  destined  bride? 

A  trembling  slave,  and  not  the  loving  wife, 

Pass'd  the  short  summer  of  thy  hapless  life; 

And  now  to  deck  that  bier,  that  pile  to  crown, 

His  fiery  sepulchre  becomes  —  thine  own. 

And  must  it  be,  that  in  a  spot  so  fair 
Shall  rise  the  madden'd  shriek  of  wild  despair? 
This  lovely  spot,  where  glows  in  every  part 
The  smile  of  nature  on  the  pomp  of  art; 
The  banian  spreads  its  hospitable  shade, 
The  bright  bird  warbles  in  the  leafy  glade, 
The  matted  palm,  and  wild  anana's  bloom, 
The  light  pagoda,  the  majestic  dome. 


860  THS    SUTTEES. 

With  emerald  plains,  and  ocean's  distant  blue, 

Cast  their  rich  tints  and  shadows  o'er  the  view. 

But  murder  here  must  wash  his  bloody  hand, 

And  superstition  shake  the  flaming  brand, 

And  terror  cast  around  an  eager  eye 

To  look  for  onci  to  save, —  where  none  is  nigh  I 

Far  other  incense  than  the  breath  of  day 

From  that  dark  corpse  must  waft  the  soul  away, 

Far  other  moans  than  of  the  mufiSed  drum 

Herald  the  lingering  spirit  to  its  home : 

Yes, —  thou  must  perish;  and  that  gentle  frame 

Must  struggle  frantic  with  the  circling  flame, 

Constant  in  weal  or  woe,  for  death,  for  life, 

The  victim  widow,  as  the  victim  wife. 

Hoping,  despairing, —  friendless,  and  forlorn. 

The  death  she  may  not  fly,  she  strives  to  scorn : 

Lists  to  the  tale  that  bright-wing'd  Peris  wait 

To  waft  her  to  Kalaisa's  crystal  gate, — 

Thinks  how  her  car  of  fire  shall  speed  along, 

Hail'd  by  high  praises,  and  Kinnura's  song, — 

And  upward  gazing  in  a  speechless  trance, 

Darts  earnestly  the  keen  ecstatic  glance. 

Till  wrapt  imagination  cleaves  the  sky. 

And  hope  delusive  points  the  way, —  to  die. 

Who  hath  not  felt,  in  some  celestial  hour. 

When  fear's  dark  thunder-clouds  have  ceased  to  lour, 

When  angels  beckon  on  the  fluttering  soul 

To  realms  of  bliss  beyond  her  mortal  goal. 

When  heavenly  glories  bursting  on  the  sight. 

The  raptured  spirit  bathes  in  seas  of  light. 

And  soars  aloft  upon  the  scrapfs  wing, — 

How  boldly  she  can  brave  death's  tyrant  sting? 

Thus  the  poor  girl's  enthusiastic  mind 

Revels  in  hope  of  blessings  undefined, 


THK    SUTTEES.  861 

Roams  o'er  the  flowers  of  earth,  the  joys  of  sense, 

And  frames  her  paradise  of  glory  thence : 

For  oft  as  memory's  retrospective  eye 

Glanced  at  the  blighted  joys  of  days  gone  by. 

How  sadly  sweet  appear'd  those  smiling  hours 

When  hope  had  strew'd  life's  thorny  path  with  flow'rs, 

How  dark,  and  shadow'd  o'er  with  fearful  gloom. 

The  unimagined  horrors  of  the  tomb ! 

When  she  remember'd  all  her  joy  and  pain, 

And  in  a  moment  lived  her  life  again, 

Each  sorrow  seera'd  to  smile,  that  frown'd  before, — 

Her  cup  of  blessing  then  was  running  o'er, — 

Days  past  in  grief,  bcam'd  now  in  hues  of  bliss. 

Fancy  gilt  them, —  but  terror  clouded  this! 

Yet  swift  her  spirit,  resolutely  proud, 

Scom'd  every  hope,  by  mercy  disallow'd : 

The  priests  have  long  invoked  their  idol  god, 

The  murd'rous  pile,  his  altar,  thirsts  for  blood, — 

A  horrid  silence  summons  to  the  grave. 

All  wait  for  her, —  and  none  stands  forth  to  save, 

O  shall  she  tremble  now,  nor  die  the  same ;  — 

Shall  she  not  fearless  rush  into  the  flame  ? 

From  her  dark  eye  she  strikes  the  rising  tear. 

And  firmly  mounts  the  pile  —  a  widow's  bier. 

Instant,  with  furious  zeal  and  willing  hands, 
Attendant  Brahmins  ply  the  ready  brands; 
And  as  the  flames  are  raging  fierce  and  high. 
And  mount  in  rushing  columns  to  the  sky, 
Lest  those  wild  shrieks,  or  pity's  soft  appeal. 
Should  rouse  one  hand  to  save,  one  heart  to  feel, 
Madly  exulting  in  their  victim's  doom 
They  heap  with  fioudish  haste  her  fiery  tomb, — 
Clash  the  loud  cymbals,  wake  the  trumpet's  note, 
Boll  'iio  deep  drum,  and  raise  the  deafening  shout. 


THE    SUTTEES. 

Till  in  dread  discord  through  the  startled  air 
Rise  the  mixt  jells  of  triumph  and  despair! 

Britain,  whose  pitying  hand  is  stretch'd  to  save 

From  despot's  iron  chain  the  writhing  slave; 

Where  freedom's  sons,  at  wild  oppression's  shriek 

Feel  the  hot  tear  bedew  the  manly  cheek, — 

Where  the  kind  sympathies  of  social  life 

Sweeten  the  cup  to  one  no  more  a  wife. 

Where  misery  never  pray'd  nor  sigh'd  in  vain, — 

Shall  India's  widow'd  daughters  bleed  again? 

Let  wreaths  more  glorious  deck  Britannia's  head 

Than  theirs,  who  fiercely  fought,  or  nobly  bled. 

Wreaths  such  as  happy  spirits  wear  above, 

Gemm  d  with  the  tears  of  gratitude  and  love, 

Where  palm  and  olive,  twined  with  almond  bloom. 

Tell  of  triumphant  peace  and  mercy's  rich  perfume. 

And  ye,  whose  young  and  kindling  hearts  can  feel 

The  pray'r  of  pity  fan  the  flame  of  zeal. 

Trace  the  blest  path  illustrious  Heber  trod. 

And  lead  the  poor  idolater  to  God! 

Thus,  in  that  happy  land,  where  nature's  voice 

Sings  at  her  toil,  and  bids  the  world  rejoice. 

No  guiltless  blood  her  paradise  shall  stain. 

No  demon  rites  her  holy  courts  profane. 

No  howl  of  superstition  rend  the  air. 

No  widow's  cry,  no  orphan's  tear,  be  there, — 

India  shall  cast  her  idol  gods  away. 

And  bless  the  promise  of  urKlying  day. 


CHEERFULNESS.  868 


CONTKASTED   SONNETS. 


AX  INVOCATIOX. 

Come  to  my  heart  of  hearts,  thou  radiant  face ! 

So  shall  I  gaze  for  ever  on  thy  fairness; 
Thine  eyes  are  smiling  stars,  and  holy  grace 

Blossoms  thy  cheek  with  its  exotic  rareness, 
Trellissing  it  with  jasmin-woven  lace : 

Come,  laughing  maid, — yet  in  thy  laughter  calm, 
Be  this  thy  home. 
Fair  cherub,  come. 

Solace  my  days  with  thy  luxurious  balm, 
And  hover  o'er  my  nightly  couch,  sweet  dove, 
So  shall  I  live  in  joy,  by  living  in  thy  love! 


A   DEPRECATION. 

White  Devil !  turn  from  me  thy  louring  eye, 
Let  thy  lean  lip  unlearn  its  bitter  smile, 

Down  thine  own  throat  I  force  its  still-born  lie. 
And  teach  thee  to  digest  it  in  thy  bile, — 
But  I  will  merrily  mock  at  thee  the  while: 


854  MALICE. 

Snch  venom  cannot  harm  rae;  for  I  sit 

On  a  fair  bill  of  name,  and  power,  and  purse, 
Too  high  for  any  shaft  of  thine  to  hit, 

Beyond  the  petty  reaching  of  thy  curse, 
Strong  in  good  purpose,  praise,  and  pregnant  wit: 
Husband  thy  hate  for  toads  of  thine  own  level, 

I  breathe  an  atmosphere  too  rare  for  thee : 
Back  to  thy  trencher  at  the  witches'  revel, 
Too  long  they  wait  thy  goodly  company: 
Yet  know  thou  this, —  I'll  crush  thee,  sorry  devil, 
If  ever  again  thou  wag  thy  tongue  at  me. 


I  stray'd  at  evening  to  a  sylvan  scene 

Dimpling  with  nature's  smile  the  stem  old  mountain, 
A  shady  dingle,  quiet,  cool,  and  green, 

"Where  the  moss'd  rock  pour'd  forth  its  natural  fountain ; 
And  hazels  cluster'd  there,  with  fern  between, 

And  feathery  meadow-sweet  shed  perfume  round, 

And  the  pink  crocus  pierc'd  the  jewell'd  ground; 

Then  was  I  calm  and  happy :  for  the  voice 
Of  nightingales  unseen  in  tremulous  lays 

Taught  me  with  innocent  gladness  to  rejoice, 
And  tuned  my  spirit  to  unforraal  praise : 
So,  among  silver'd  uiuths,  and  closing  flowers, 

Gambolling  hares,  and  rooks  returning  home, 

And  strong-wing'd  chafers  setting  out  to  roam, 
In  careless  peace  I  pass'd  the  soothing  hours. 


ABT. 


Irt. 


The  massy  fane  of  architecture  olden, 
Or  fretted  minarets  of  marble  white, 

Or  Moorish  arabesque,  begemm'd  and  golden, 
Or  porcelain  pagoda,  tipp'd  with  light. 
Or  high-spanned  arches, — were  a  noble  sight: 

Nor  less  yon  gallant  ship,  that  treads  the  waves 
In  a  triumphant  silence  of  delight, 

Like  some  huge  swan,  with  her  fair  wings  unfurl'd, 
Whose  curvM  sides  the  laughing  water  laves. 

Bearing  it  buoyant  o'er  the  liquid  world : 
Nor  less  yon  silken  monster  of  the  sky 

Around  whose  wicker  car  the  clouds  are  curl'd. 
Helping  undaunted  man  to  scale  on  high 
Nearer  the  sun  than  eagles  dare  to  fly;  — 
Thy  trophies  these, — still  but  a  modest  part 
Of  thy  grand  conquests,  wonder-working  Artl 


0  NAME  for  comfort,  refuge,  hope,  and  peace, 
O  spot  by  gratitude  and  memory  blest ! 

Where,  as  in  brighter  worlds,  "  the  wicked  cease 
From  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest," 
And  unfledged  loves  and  graces  have  their  nest; 


B66  THE    WRETCHED    HOME. 

How  brightly  here  the  various  virtues  shine, 
And  nothing  said  or  done  is  seen  amiss  j 

While  sweet  affections  every  heart  entwine, 
And  differing  tastes  and  talents  all  unite, 
Like  hues  prismatic  blending  into  white, 

In  charity  to  man,  and  love  divine : 

Thou  little  kingdom  of  serene  delight,       '   • 

Heaven's  nursery  and  foretaste !  0  what  bliss 

Where  earth  to  wearied  men  can  give  a  home  like  this! 


Scene  of  disunion,  bickering,  and  strife. 

What  curse  has  made  thy  native  blessings  die? 
Why  do  these  broils  embitter  daily  life. 

And  cold  self-interest  form  the  strongest  tie? 

Hate,  ill  conceal'd,.  is  flashing  from  the  eye, 
And  mutter'd  vengeance  curls  the  pallid  lip; 

What  should  be  harmony  is  all  at  jar;  — 
Doubt  and  reserve  love's  timid  blossoms  nip, 

And  weaken  nature's  bends  to  ropes  of  sand; 

While  dull  indifference  takes  the  icy  hand 
(Oh  chilling  touch  !)  —  of  constrain'd  fellowship : 

What  secret  demon  has  such  discord  fann'd? 
What  ill  committed  stirs  this  penal  war, — 
Or  what  omitted  good? — Alas!  that  such  things  are. 


THEORY.  867 

€lirnn|. 

How  fair  and  facile  seems  that  upland  road! 

Surely  the  mountain  air  is  fresh  and  sweet, 
And  briskly  shall  I  bear  this  mortal  load 

With  well-braced  sinews,  and  un weary  feet; 

How  dear  my  fellow-pilgrims  oft  to  meet 
O'ertaken,  as  to  reach  yon  blest  abode 

We  strive  together,  in  glad  hope  to  greet, 
With  angel  friends  and  our  approving  GoD, 

All  that  in  life  we  once  have  loved  so  well, 
So  what  we  loved  be  worthy :  her  bright  wings 
My  willing  spirit  plumes,  and  upward  springs 

Rejoicing,  over  crag,  and  fen,  and  fell. 
And  down,  or  up,  the  cliifs  precipitous  face, 

To  run  or  fly  her  buoyant  happy  race ! 


This  body, — 0  the  body  of  this  death  ! 

Strive  as  thou  wilt,  do  all  that  mortal  can, 

This  is  the  sum,  a  man  is  but  a  man, 
And  weak  in  error  strangely  wandereth 

Down  flowery  lanes,  with  pain  and  peril  fraught, 

Conscious  of  what  he  doth,  and  what  he  ought. 
Alas, —  but  wherefore  ? —  scarce  my  plaintive  breath 

Wafts  its  faint  question  to  the  listening  sky. 
When  thus  in  answer  some  kind  spirit  saith : 

'<  Man,  thou  art  mean,  although  thy  aim  be  high ; 
All  matter  hath  one  law,  concentering  strong 

To  some  attractive  point, —  and  thy  world's  core 
Is  the  foul  seat  of  hell,  and  pain,  and  wrong: 

Yet  courage,  man  !  the  strife  shall  soon  be  o'er, 
And  that  poor  leprous  husk,  sore  travailing  long. 

Shall  yet  cast  off"  its  death  in  second  birth, 
And  flame  anew  a  heavenly  centred  earth !" 


RICHER. 

ixirjirs. 

Heaps  upon  heaps, —  hillocks  of  yellow  gold, 
Jewels,  and  hanging  silks,  and  piled-up  plate, 

And  marble  groups  in  beauty's  choicest  mould. 
And  viands  rare,  and  odours  delicate, 

And  art  and  nature,  in  divinest  works. 

Swell  the  full  pomp  of  my  triumphant  state 
With  all  that  makes  a  mortal  glad  and  great; 

— Ah,  no,  not  glad:  within  my  secret  heart 

The  dreadful  knowledge,  like  a  death-worm  lurks. 

That  all  this  dream  of  life  must  soon  depart; 
And  the  hot  curse  of  talents  misapplied 

Blisters  ray  conscience  with  its  burning  smart. 
So  that  I  long  to  fling  my  wealth  aside : 
For  my  poor  soul,  when  its  rich  mate  hath  died. 
Must  lie  with  Dives,  spoil'd  of  all  its  pride. 


The  sun  is  bright  and  glad,  but  not  for  me. 

My  heart  is  dead  to  all  but  pain  and  sorrow, 
Nor  care  nor  hope  have  I  in  all  I  see, 

Save  from  the  fear  that  I  may  starve  to-morrow; 
And  eagerly  I  seek  uncertain  toil, 

Leaving  my  sinews  in  the  thankless  furrow, 
To  drain  a  scanty  pittance  from  the  soil, 
While  my  life's  lamp  burns  dim  for  lack  of  oil. 

Alas,  for  you,  poor  famishing  patient  wife. 
And  pale-faced  little  ones !  your  feeble  cries 

Torture  my  soul :  worse  than  a  blank  is  life 
Beggar'd  of  all  that  makes  that  life  a  prize : 

Yet  one  thing  cheers  me, —  is  not  life  the  door 

To  that  rich  world  where  no  one  can  be  poor? 


LIGHT.  869 


A  GLORIOUS  vision :  as  I  walk'd  at  noon 

The  children  of  the  sun  came  thronging  round  me, 
In  shining  robes  and  diamond-studded  shoon; 
And  they  did  wing  me  up  with  them,  and  soon. 

In  a  bright  dome  of  wondrous  width  I  found  me, 
Set  all  with  beautiful  eyes,  whose  wizard  rays. 

Shed  on  my  soul,  in  strong  enchantment  bound  mej 
And  so  I  look'd  and  look'd  with  dazzled  gaze. 

Until  my  spirit  drank  in  so  much  light 
That  I  grew  like  the  sons  of  that  glad  place. 

Transparent,  lovely,  pure,  serene,  and  bright; 
Then  did  they  call  me  brother:  and  there  grew 

Swift  from  my  sides  broad  pinions  gold  and  white, 
And  with  that  happy  flock  a  brilliant  thing  I  flew ! 


Sarkntss. 

A  TEBRIBLE  dream :  I  lay  at  dead  of  night 

Tortur'd  by  some  vague  fear;  it  secm'd  at  first 
Like  a  small  ink-spot  on  the  ceiling  white, 
To  a  black  bubble  swelling  in  my  sight. 

And  then  it  grew  to  a  balloon  and  burst; 
Then  I  was  drown'd,  as  with  an  ebon  stream. 

And  those  dark  waves  quench'd  all  mine  inward  light, 
That  in  my  saturated  mind  no  gleam 

Remain'd  of  beauty,  peace,  or  love,  or  right: 
I  was  a  spirit  of  darkness  !  —  yet  I  knew 

I  could  not  thus  bo  left;  it  was  but  a  dream; 
Still  felt  I  full  of  horror;  for  a  crew 

Of  shadowy  its  hcmm'd  iu  my  harried  mind, 

And  all  my  dread  was  waking  mad  nnd  blind. 
24 


MO  POETRY. 

To  touch  the  heart,  and  make  its  pulses  thrill, 

To  raise  and  purify  the  grovelling  soul, 
To  warm  with  generous  heat  the  selfish  will, 

To  conquer  passion  with  a  mild  control. 
And  the  whole  man  with  nobler  thoughts  to  fill, 

These  are  thine  aims,  0  pure  unearthly  power. 
These  are  thine  influences :  and  therefore  those 

Whose  wings  are  clogg'd  with  evil,  are  thy  foes; 

And  therefore  these,  who  have  thee  for  their  dower, 
The  widow'd  spirits  with  no  portion  here, 

Eat  angels'  food,  the  manna  thou  dost  shower: 
For  thine  are  pleasures,  deep,  and  tried,  and  true. 

Whether  ito  read,  or  write,  or  think,  or  hear. 
By  the  gross  million  spurn'd,  and  fed  on  by  the  few. 


That  the  fine  edge  of  intellect  is  dull'd 

And  mortal  ken  with  cloudy  films  obscure. 
And  the  numb'd  heart  so  deep  in  stupor  luU'd 

That  virtue's  self  is  weak  its  love  to  lure, 

But  pride  and  lust  keep  all  the  gates  secure. 
This  is  thy  fall,  0  man;  and  therefore  those 
Whose  aims  are  earthly,  like  pedestrian  prose, — 

The  selfish,  useful,  money-making  plan. 
Cold  language  of  the  desk,  or  quibbling  bar. 

Where  in  hard  matter  sinks  ideal  man  : 
Still,  worldly  teacher,  be  it  from  me  far 

Thy  darkness  to  confound  with  yon  bright  band 
Poetic  all,  though  not  so  named  by  men. 
Who  have  sway'd  royally  the  mighty  pen, 

And  now  as  kings  in  prose  on  fame's  clear  summit  stand. 


JTBIENDSHIP,    CONSTRAINED.  861^ 

/ritniisliiii;  tnnstrflirali. 

Gentle,  but  generous,  modest,  pure  and  learnt, 

Ready  to  hear  the  fool,  or  teach  the  wise, 
With  gracious  heart  that  all  within  him  bumM 

To  wipe  the  tears  from  virtue's  blessed  eyes 

And  help  again  the  struggling  right  to  rise, 
Such  an  one,  like  a  god,  have  I  discemM 

Walking  in  goodness  this  polluted  earth. 
And  cannot  choose  but  love  him :  to  my  soul 
Sway'd  irresistibly  with  sweet  control, 

So  rare  and  noble  seems  thy  precious  worth. 
That  the  young  fibres  of  my  happier  heart. 

Like  tendrils  to  the  sun,  are  stretching  forth 
To  twine  around  thy  fragrant  excellence, 
0  child  of  love :  —  so  dear  to  me  thou  art. 

So  coveted  by  me  thy  good  influence! 


d^Dmiti},  rnmjirllfit. 

Coarse,  vain,  and  vulgar,  ignorant  and  mean, 
Sensual  and  sordid  in  each  hope  and  aim, 

Selfish  in  appetite,  and  basely  keen 

In  tracking  out  gross  pleasure's  guilty  game 
With  eager  eye,  and  bad  heart  all  on  flame, 

Such  an  one,  like  an  Afreet,  have  I  seen 

Shedding  o'er  this  fair  world  his  balefire  light, 

And  can  I  love  him  ?  —  far  be  from  my  thought 

To  show  not  such  the  charities  I  ought, — 
But  from  his  converse  should  I  reap  delight? 

Nor  bid  the  tender  sproutings  of  my  mind 

Shrink  from  his  evil,  as  from  bane  and  blight, 
Nor  back  upon  themselves  my  feelings  roll? 

0  moral  monster,  loveless  and  unkind, 

Thou  art  as  wormwood  to  my  secret  soul! 


862  PHILANTHROPIC. 

^ijilatttjirnjiir. 

Gome  near  me,  friends  and  brothers;  hem  me  round 

With  the  dear  faces  of  my  fellow-men : 
The  music  of  your  tongues  with  magic  sound 

Shall  cheer  my  heart  and  make  me  happiest  then; 
My  soul  yearns  over  you :  the  sitting  hen 

Cowers  not  more  fondly  o'er  her  callow  brood 
Than,  in  most  kind  excuse  of  all  your  ill, 

My  heart  is  warm  and  patient  for  your  good; 

0  that  my  power  were  measured  by  my  will! 
Then  would  I  bless  you  as  I  love  you  still, 

Forgiving,  as  I  trust  to  be  forgiven : 
Here,  vilest  of  my  kind,  take  hand  and  heart, 

1  also  am  a  man, — 'tis  all  thou  art. 

An  erring  needy  pensioner  of  heaven. 


How  long  am  I  to  smell  this  tainted  air. 
And  in  a  pest-house  draw  my  daily  breath, — 
Where  nothing  but  the  sordid  fear  of  death 
Restrains  from  grander  guilt  than  cowards  dare? 
0  loathsome,  despicable,  petty  race. 

Low  counterfeits  of  devils,  villanous  men. 
Sooner  than  learn  to  love  a  human  face, 

I'll  make  ray  home  in  the  hyaena's  den. 

Or  live  with  newts  and  bull-frogs  on  the  fen: 
These  at  the  least  are  honest;  — but  for  man. 
The  best  will  cheat  and  use  you  if  he  can; 

The  best  is  only  varnish'd  o'er  with  good; 
Subtle  for  self,  for  damning  mammon  keen. 
Cruel,  luxurious,  treacherous,  proud  and  mean, — 

Great  Justice,  haste  to  crush  the  viper's  brood ; 
And  I  too  am  —  a  man  !  —  0  wretched  fate 
To  be  the  thing  I  scorn  —  more  than  I  hate. 


COUNTRY.  g^ 

Most  traDquil,  innocent,  and  happy  life, 

Full  of  the  holy  joy  chaste  nature  yields, 
Redeem'd  from  care,  and  sin,  and  the  hot  strife 
That  rings  around  the  smoked  unwholesome  dome 

Where  mighty  Mammon  his  black  sceptre  wields, — 
Here  let  me  rest  in  humble  cottage  home, 

Here  let  me  labour  in  the  enamell'd  fields: 
How  pleasant  in  these  ancient  woods  to  roam 
With  kind-eyed  friend,  or  kindly-teaching  book; 

Or  the  fresh  gallop  on  the  dew-dropt  heath, 
Or  at  fair  eventide  with  feather'd  hook 
To  strike  the  swift  trout  in  the  shallow  brook, 

Or  in  the  bower  to  twine  the  jasmine  wreath. 
Or  at  the  earliest  blush  of  summer  morn 

To  trim  the  bed,  or  turn  the  new-mown  hay, 
Or  pick  the  perfumed  hop,  or  reap  the  golden  corn! 

So  should  my  peaceful  life  all  smoothly  glide  away. 

Enough  of  lanes,  and  trees,  and  valleys  green. 
Enough  of  briary  wood,  and  hot  chalk-down, 

I  hate  the  startling  quiet  of  the  scene, 

And  long  to  hear  the  gay  glad  hum  of  town : 
My  garden  be  the  garden  of  the  Graces, 

Flowers  full  of  smiles,  with  f^hion  for  their  queen, 
My  pleasant  fields  be  crowds  of  joyous  faces. 

The  brilliant  rout,  the  concert,  and  the  ball, — 

These  be  my  joys  in  endless  carnival ! 
For  I  do  loathe  that  sickening  solitude, 

That  childish  hunting-up  of  flies  and  weeds. 
Or  worse,  the  company  of  rustics  rude, 

Whose  only  hopes  are  bound  in  clods  and  seeds : 
Out  on  it !  let  me  live  in  town  delight, 
And  for  your  tedious  country-mornings  bright 
Give  me  gay  London  with  its  noon  and  night. 


fH  WORLDLY    AND    WEALTHY. 

Idolator  of  gold,  I  love  thee  not, 

The  orbits  of  our  hearts  are  sphered  afar, 

In  lieu  of  tuneful  sympathies,  I  wot, 

My  thoughts  and  thine  are  all  at  utter  jar, 

Because  thou  judgest  by  what  men  have  got. 
Heeding  but  lightly  what  they  do,  or  are: 
Alas,  for  thee !  this  lust  of  gold  shall  mar. 

Like  leprous  stains,  the  tissue  of  thy  lot. 

And  drain  the  natural  moisture  from  thy  heart; 
Alas !  thou  heedest  not  how  poor  thou  art, 

Weigh'd  in  the  balances  of  truth,  how  vain  : 
0  wrecking  mariner,  fling  out  thy  freight. 
Or  founder  with  the  heavily  sinking  weight; 

No  longer  dote  upon  thy  treasured  gain. 

Or  quick,  and  sure  to  come,  the  hour  shall  be, 
When  MENE  TEKEL  shall  be  sentenced  thee. 


Wm  onit  IBnrtjitf. 

Rather  be  thou  ray  counsellor  and  friend, 

Good  man  though  poor,  whose  treasure  with  thy  heart 

Is  stored  and  set  upon  that  better  part. 
Choice  of  thy  wisdom,  without  waste  or  end. 
And  full  of  profits  that  to  pleasures  tend : 

How  cheerful  is  thy  face,  how  glad  thou  art! 
Using  the  world  with  all  its  bounteous  store 

Of  richest  blessings,  comforts,  loves,  and  joys. 
Which  thine  all-healthy  hunger  prizeth  more 

Than  the  gorged  fool,  whom  sinful  surfeit  cloys; 
Still,  not  forgetful  of  thy  nobler  self, 

The  breath  divine  within  thee, —  but  with  care 

Cherishing  the  faint  spark  that  glimmereth  there, 
Nor  by  Brazilian  slavery  to  pelf 

Plunging  thy  taper  into  poison'd  air. 


LIBERALITY.  865 

ITihralitii. 

Give  while  thou  canst,  it  is  a  godlike  thing, 

Give  what  thou  canst,  thou  shalt  not  find  it  loss, 

Yea,  sell  and  give,  much  gain  such  barteries  bring. 
Yea,  all  thou  hast,  and  get  fine  gold  for  dross: 

Still,  see  thou  scatter  wisely;  for  to  fling 

Good  seed  on  rocks,  or  sands,  or  thorny  ground. 
Were  not  to  copy  Him,  whose  generous  cross 

Hath  this  poor  world  with  rich  salvation  crown  *d. 
And,  when  thou  look'st  on  woes  and  want  around. 

Knowing  that  God  hath  lent  thee  all  thy  wealth. 
That  better  it  is  to  give  than  to  receive, 

That  riches  cannot  buy  thee  joy  nor  health, — 
Why  hinder  thine  own  welfare?  thousands  grieve, 
Whom  if  thy  pitying  hand  will  but  relieve. 
It  shall  for  thine  own  wear  the  robe  of  gladness  weave. 


Where  vice  is  virtue,  thou  art  still  despised, 
0  petty  loathsome  love  of  hoarded  pelf. 

Even  in  the  pit  where  all  things  vile  are  prized. 
Still  is  there  found  in  Lucifer  himself 

Spirit  enough  to  hate  thee,  sordid  thing : 

Thank  Heaven!  I  own  in  thee  nor  lot  nor  part; 

And  though  to  many  a  sin  and  folly  cling 
The  worse  weak  fibres  of  my  weedy  heart. 

Yet  to  thy  wither'd  lips  and  snake-like  eye 
My  warmest  welcome  is,  Depart,  depart, — 
For  to  my  sense  so  foul  and  base  thou  art 

I  would  not  stoop  to  thee  to  reach  the  sky : 
Aroint  thee,  filching  hand,  and  heart  of  stone  I 
Be  this  thy  doom,  with  conscience  left  alone 
heam  how  like  Death  thou  art,  unsated  sefilsh  one. 


tee  ANCIENT. 

My  sympathies  are  all  with  times  of  old, 
I  cannot  live  with  things  of  yesterday, 
Upstart,  and  flippant,  foolish,  weak,  and  gay, 

But  spirits  cast  in  a  severer  mould. 

Of  solid  worth,  like  elemental  gold; 

I  love  to  wander  o'er  the  shadowy  past. 

Dreaming  of  dynasties  long  swept  away. 
And  seem  to  find  myself  almost  the  last 
Of  a  time-honour 'd  race,  decaying  fast : 

For  I  can  dote  upon  the  rare  antique, 
Conjuring  up  what  story  it  might  tell, 

The  bronze,  or  bead,  or  coin,  or  quaint  relique; 
And  in  a  desert  could  delight  to  dwell 

Among  vast  ruins, — Tadmor's  stately  halls. 
Old  Egypt's  giant  fanes,  or  Babel's  mouldering  walls. 


Behold,  I  stand  upon  a  speck  of  earth 

To  work  the  works  allotted  me, — and  die; 
Grlad  among  toils  to  snatch  a  little  mirth, 

And,  when  I  must,  unmurmuring  down  to  lie 
In  the  same  soil  that  gave  mo  food  and  birth  : 

For  all  that  went  before  me,  what  care  I? 

The  past,  the  future, —  these  are  but  a  dream; 
I  wapt  the  tangible  good  of  present  worth, 

And  heed  not  wisps  of  light  that  dance  and  gleam 

Over  the  marshes  of  the  foolish  past: 

We  are  a  race  the  best,  because  the  last. 
Improving  all,  and  happier  day  by  day 

To  think  our  chosen  lot  hath  not  been  cast 
In  those  old  puerile  times,  discreetly  swept  away. 


SPIRIT.  367 

spirit. 

Throw  me  from  this  tall  cliff, —  my  wings  are  strong, 

The  hurricane  is  raging  fierce  and  high, 
My  spirit  pants,  and  all  in  heat  I  long 

To  struggle  upward  to  a  purer  sky. 

And  tread  the  clouds  above  me  rolling  by: 
Lo,  thus  into  the  buoyant  air  I  leap 

Confident,  and  exulting,  at  a  bound. 
Swifter  than  whirlwinds,  happily  to  sweep 

On  fiery  wing  the  reeling  world  around: 
Off  with  my  fetters  !  —  who  shall  hold  me  back  ? 
My  path  lies  there, —  the  lightning's  sudden  track, 
O'er  the  blue  concave  of  the  fathomless  deep, — 

Oh, —  thus  to  spurn  matter,  and  space,  and  time, 

And  soar  above  the  universe  sublime ! 


Batter. 

In  the  deep  clay  of  yonder  sluggish  flood 
The  huge  behemoth  makes  his  ancient  lair, 
And  with  slow  caution  heavily  wallows  there. 

Moving  above  the  stream,  a  mound  of  mud : 
And  near  him  stretching  to  the  river's  edge 

In  dense  dark  grandeur,  stands  the  silent  wood. 

Whose  unpierced  jungles,  choked  with  rotting  sedge, 

Prison  the  damp  air  from  the  freshening  breeze: 
Lo !  the  rhinoceros  comes  down  this  way 

Thundering  furiously  on, —  and  snorting  sees 
The  harmless  monster  at  his  awkward  play, 

And  rushes  on  him  from  the  crashing  trees, — 
A  dreadful  shock :  as  when  the  Titans  hurl'd 
Against  high  Jovo  the  Himalayan  world! 


808  LIFE. 

0  Life,  0  glorious !  sister-twin  of  light, 
Essence  of  Godhead,  energizing  love. 

Hail,  gentle  conqueror  of  dead  cold  night. 
Hail,  on  the  water's  kindly-brooding  dove? 

1  feel  thee  near  me,  in  me :  thy  strange  might 

Flies  through  my  bones  like  fire, —  my  heart  beats  high 
With  thy  glad  presence;  pain  and  fear  and  care 

Hide  from  the  lightning  laughter  of  mine  eye; 
No  dark  unseasonable  terrors  dare 

Disturb  me,  revelling  in  the  luxury. 
The  new-found  luxury  of  life  and  health. 

This  blithesome  elasticity  of  limb, 

This  pleasure,  in  which  all  ray  senses  swim, 
This  deep  outpouring  of  a  creature's  wealth ! 


Ghastly  and  weak,  0  dreadful  monarch  Death, 
With  failing  feet  I  near  thy  silent  realm. 

Upon  my  brain  strikes  chill  thine  icy  breath. 
My  fluttering  heart  thy  terrors  overwhelm. 

Thou  sullen  pilot  of  life's  crazy  bark. 

How  treacherously  thou  puttest  down  the  helm 
Just  where  smooth  eddies  hide  the  sunken  rock; 

While  close  behind  follows  the  hungry  shark 
Snuffing  his  meal  from  far,  swift  with  black  fin 
The  foam  dividing, —  ha!  that  sudden  shock 

Splits  my  frail  skiff;  upon  the  billows  dark 

A  drowning  wretch  awhile  struggling  I  float. 
Till,  just  as  I  had  hoped  the  wreck  to  win, 

I  feel  thy  bony  fingers  clutch  my  throat. 


SLLEN    GRAY.  g'jtj 


f^M  (0riit|. 

THB   EXCUSE   OP   AN   UNFORTCNAT*. 

A  STARLESS  night,  and  bitter  cold; 
The  low  dun  clouds  all  wildly  roll'd, 

Scudding  before  the  blast, 
And  cheerlessly  the  frozen  sleet 
Adown  the  melancholy  street 

Swept  onward  thick  and  fast; 

When,  crouched  at  an  unfriendly  door, 
Faint,  sick,  and  miserably  poor, 

A  silent  woman  sate. 
She  might  be  young,  and  had  been  fair, 
But  from  her  eye  look'd  out  despair, 

All  dim  and  desolate. 

Was  I  to  pass  her  coldly  by. 
Leaving  her  there  to  pine  and  die. 

The  live-long  freezing  night? 
The  secret  answer  of  my  heart 
Told  me  I  had  not  done  my  part 

In  flinging  her  a  mite; 

She  look'd  her  thanks, —  then  droop'd  her  head; 
"Have  you  no  friend,  no  home?"  I  said: 

"Get  up,  poor  creature,  come, — 
You  seem  unhappy,  faint,  and  weak, 
How  can  I  serve  or  save  you, —  speak, 

Or  whither  help  you  home?" 


870  KLLKN    ORAT. 

"Alas,  kind  sir,  poor  Ellen  Gray 
Has  had  no  friend  this  many  a  day, 

And,  but  that  you  seem  kind, — 
She  has  not  found  the  face  of  late 
That  look'd  on  her  in  aught  but  hate, 

And  still  despairs  to  find: 

And  for  a  home, —  would  I  had  nonel 
The  home  I  have,  a  wicked  one. 

They  will  not  let  me  in. 
Till  I  can  fee  my  jailor's  hands 
With  the  vile  tribute  she  demands. 

The  wages  of  my  sin : 

I  see  your  goodness  on  me  frown; 
Yet  hear  the  veriest  wretch  on.  town, 

While  yet  in  life  she  may, 
Tell  the  sad  story  of  her  grief, — 
Though  heaven  alone  can  bring  relief 

To  guilty  Ellen  Gray. 

My  mother  died  when  I  was  bom: 
And  I  was  flung,  a  babe  forlorn, 

Upon  the  workhouse  floor; 
My  father, —  would  I  knew  him  not  I 
A  squalid  thief,  a  reckless  sot, 

— I  dare  not  tell  you  more. 

And  I  was  bound  an  infant-slave. 
With  no  one  near  to  love  or  save 

From  cruel  sordid  men, 
A  friendless,  famish 'd,  factory  child, 
Mom,  noon,  and  night  I  toil'd  and  toil'd,- 

Yet  was  I  happy  then. 


ELLEN    GRAY.  371 

My  heart  was  pure,  my  face  was  fairj 
Ah,  would  to  God  a  cancer  there 

Had  eaten  out  its  way ! 
For  soon  my  tasker,  dreaded  man. 
With  treacherous  wiles  and  arts  began 

To  mark  me  for  his  prey. 

And  month  by  month  he  vainly  strove 
To  light  the  flame  of  lawless  love 

In  my  most  loathing  breast; 
Oh,  how  I  fear'd  and  hated  him, 
So  basely  kind,  so  smoothly  grim, 

My  terror,  and  my  pest! 

Till  one  day,  at  that  prison-mill, — 

Thenceforward  droop'd  my  stricken  head; 
I  lived, —  I  died,  a  life  of  dread. 

Lest  they  should  guess  my  shame; 
But  weeks  and  months  would  pass  away, 
And  all  too  soon  the  bitter  day 

Of  wrath  and  ruin  came; 

I  could  not  hide  my  alter'd  form: 
Then  on  my  head  the  fearful  storm 

Of  jibe  and  insult  burst : 
Men  only  raock'd  me  for  my  fate, 
But  women's  scorn  and  women's  hate 

Me,  their  poor  sister,  curst. 

0  woman,  had  thy  kindless  face 
But  gentler  look'd  on  my  disgrace, 

And  heal'd  the  wounds  it  gave  !  — 

1  waa  a  drowning  sinking  wretch. 
Whom  no  one  loved  enough  to  stretch 

A  finger  out  to  save. 


872  ELLEN    GRAY. 

They  tore  my  baby  from  my  heart. 
And  lock'd  it  in  some  hole  apart 

Where  I  could  hear  its  cry, 
Such  was  the  horrid  poor-house  law;  — 
Its  little  throes  I  never  saw, 

Although  I  heard  it  die! 

Still  the  stone  hearts  that  ruled  the  place 
Let  me  not  kiss  my  darling's  face. 

My  little  darling  dead; 
Oh !  I  was  mad  with  rage  and  hate, 
And  yet  all  sullenly  I  sate. 

And  not  a  word  I  said. 

I  would  not  stay,  I  could  not  bear 
To  breathe  the  same  infected  air 

That  kill'd  my  precious  child; 
I  watch'd  my  time,  and  fled  away 
The  livelong  night,  the  livelong  day, 

With  fear  and  anguish  wild : 

Till  down  upon  a  river's  bank. 
Twenty  leagues  off,  fainting,  I  sank. 

And  only  long'd  to  die; 
I  had  no  hope,  no  home,  no  friend. 
No  God  !  —  I  sought  but  for  an  end 

To  life  and  misery. 

Ah,  lightly  heed  the  righteous  few, 
How  little  to  themselves  is  due. 

But  all  things  given  to  them; 
Yet  the  unwise,  because  untaught. 
The  wandering  sheep,  because  unsought, 

They  heartlessly  condemn : 


-  ELLEN    GRAY.  373 

And  little  can  the  untcmpted  dream 
While  gliding  smoothly  down  life's  stream 

They  keep  the  letter-laws, 
What  they  would  be,  if,  tost  like  me 
Hopeless  upon  life's  barren  sea, 

They  knew  how  hunger  gnaws. 

I  was  half-starved,  I  tried  in  vain 
To  get  me  work  my  bread  to  gain; 

Before  me  flew  my  shame; 
Cold  Charity  put  up  her  purse. 
And  none  look'd  on  me  but  to  curse 

The  daughter  of  ill-fame. 

Alas,  why  need  I  count  by  links 

The  heavy  lengthening  chain  that  sinks 

My  heart,  my  soul,  my  all? 
I  still  was  fair,  though  hope  was  dead, 
And  so  I  sold  myself  for  bread. 

And  lived  upon  my  fall: 

Now  I  was  reckless,  bold  and  bad, 
My  love  was  hate, — I  grew  half-mad 

With  thinking  on  my  wrongs; 
Disease,  and  pain,  and  giant-sin 
llent  body  and  soul,  and  raged  within  I 

Such  meed  to  guilt  belongs. 

And  what  I  was, — such  still  am  I; 
Afraid  to  live,  unfit  to  die, — 

And  yet  I  hoped  I  might 
Meet  my  best  friend  and  lover — Death 
In  the  fierce  frowns  and  frozen  breath 

Of  this  December  night. 


374  ELLEN    QRAY. 

My  tale  is  told:  my  heart  grows  cold; 
I  cannot  stir, — yet, — kind  good  sir, 

I  know  that  you  will  stay, — 
And  God  is  kinder  e'en  than  you, — 
Can  He  not  look  with  pity  too 

On  wretched  Ellen  Gray?" 

Her  eye  was  fix'd;  she  said  no  more, 
But  propp'd  against  the  cold  street-door 

She  lean'd  her  fainting  head; 
One  moment  she  look'd  up  and  smiled 
Full  of  new  hope,  as  Mercy's  child, 

— And  Ellen  Gray  was  dead. 


Fair  Charity,  thou  rarest,  best,  and  brightest! 

Who  would  not  gladly  hide  thee  in  his  heart. 
With  all  thine  angel-guests?  for  thou  delightest 

To  bring  such  with  thee, —  guests  that  ne'er  depart  j 
Cherub,  with  what  enticement  thou  invitest, 

Perfect  in  winning  beauty  as  thou  art, 
World-wearied  man  to  plant  thee  in  his  bosom 
And  graft  upon  his  cares  thy  balmy  blossom. 

Fain  would  he  be  frank-hearted,  generous,  cheerful. 
Forgiving,  aiding,  loving,  trusting  all, — 

But  knowledge  of  his  kind  has  made  him  fearful 
All  are  not  friends,  whom  friends  he  longs  to  call) 

For  prudence  makes  men  cold,  and  misery  tearful. 
And  interest  bids  them  rise  upon  his  fall. 

And  while  they  seek  their  selfish  own  to  cherish. 

They  leave  the  wounded  stag  alone  to  perish. 


11 


CHARITY.  375 

Man  may  rejoice  that  thy  sweet  influence  hallows 
His  intercourse  with  all  he  loves — in  heaven: 

But  canst  thou  make  him  love  his  sordid  fellows, 
And  mix  with  them  untainted  hy  their  leaven  ? 

How  can  he  not  grow  cautious,  cold,  and  callous, 
When  he  forgives  to  seventy-times  seven. 

And  still-repeated  wrongs,  unwept  for,  harden 

The  heart  that's  never  sued  nor  sought  to  pardon  ? 

Reserve's  cold  breath  has  chill'd  each  warmer  feeling, 

Ingratitude  has  frozen  up  his  blood, 
Unjust  neglect  has  pierced  him,  past  all  healing, 

And  scarr'd  a  heart  that  panted  to  do  good; 
Slowly,  but  surely,  has  distrust  been  steeling 

His  mind,  much  wronged,  and  little  understood : 
Would  charity  unseal  aflFection's  fountain? 
Alas !  'tis  crush'd  beneath  a  marble  mountain. 

Yet  the  belief  that  he  was  loved  by  other 

Could  root  and  hurl  that  mountain  in  the  sea, 

Oblivion's  depth  the  height  of  ill  would  smother 
And  all  forgiven,  all  forgotten  be ; 

Man  then  could  love  his  once  injurious  brother 
With  such  a  love  as  none  can  give  but  he; 

The  sun  of  love,  and  that  alone  has  power 

To  bring  to  bright  perfection  love's  sweet  flower. 

Soft  rains,  and  zephyrs,  and  warm  noons  can  yanquish 

The  stubborn  tyranny  of  winter's  frost; 
Once  more  the  smiling  valleys  cease  to  languish, 

Brest  out  in  fresher  beauties  than  they  lost: 
So  springs  with  gladness  from  its  bed  of  anguish 

The  heart  that  loved  not,  when  reviled  and  crost, 
But,  once  beloved, —  oh  then  not  once  but  often 
Love's  sunny  smile  the  rockiest  heart  will  soften. 
25 


876  TO   MY  BOOK,   "PROVERBIAL   PHILOSOPHY." 

-^n  tni|  5SDDk,  "  f  rnDtrhinl  l^ljitaiilni/' 

BEFOBE   PUBLICATION.      1837. 

My  soul's  own  son,  dear  image  of  my  mind, 
I  would  not  without  blessing  send  tbee  forth 

Into  the  bleak  wide  world,  whose  voice  unkind 
Perchance  will  mock  at  thee  as  nothing  worth; 

For  the  cold  critic's  jealous  eye  may  find 
In  all  thy  purposed  good  little  but  ill, 
May  taunt  thy  simple  garb  as  quaintly  wrought. 

And  praise  thee  for  no  more  than  the  small  skill 
Of  masking  as  thine  own  another's  thought : 
What  then  ?  —  count  envious  sneers  as  less  than  nought ; 

Fair  is  thine  aim,  and,  having  done  thy  best, 

Lo,  thus  I  bless  thee;  yea,  thou  shalt  be  blest! 


€n  tjiB  mmt, 

AFTER   PUBLICATION. 

That  they  have  praised  thee  well,  and  cheer'd  thee  on 

With  kinder  tones  that  critics  deign  to  few. 
Child  of  my  thoughts,  my  fancy's  favourite  son. 
Our  courteous  thanks,  our  heartfelt  thanks  are  due. 

Despise  not  thou  thine  equal's  honest  praise; 
Yet  feast  not  of  such  dainties;  thou  shalt  rue 
Their  sweetness  else;  let  rather  generous  pride 
Those  golden  apples  straightly  spurn  aside. 

And  gird  thee  all  unshackled  to  the  race : 
On  to  the  goal  of  honour,  fair  beginner, 
A  thousand  ducats  thou  shalt  yet  be  winner! 


TO    THE    SAME.  877 

€n  Ijie  mmt, 

ON   THE   PUBLICATION   OP   THK   SECOND   EDITION. 

Yet  once  again,  not  after  many  days 

Since  first  I  dared  this  voyage  in  the  dark, 
Borne  on  the  prosperous  gale  of  good  men's  praise 

To  the  wide  waters  I  commit  mine  ark. 
And  bid  God  speed  thy  venture,  gallant  bark ! 

For  I  have  launch'd  thee  on  a  thousand  prayers, 
Freighted  thee  well  with  all  my  mind  and  heart, — 

And  if  some  contraband  error  unawares 
Like  Achan's  wedge,  lie  hid  in  any  part. 
Stand  it  conderan'd,  as  it  most  justly  ought: 
Yet  be  the  thiuker  spared,  if  not  his  thought; 
For  he  that  with  an  honest  purpose  errs 
Merits  more  kind  excuse  than  the  shrewd  world  confers. 


il^pliltiiig  iliHftg. 

(Set  to  muiie  by  the  Chevalier  Neukomm,  in  1882.) 

You  NO  bride, —  a  wreath  for  thee  I 
Of  sweet  and  gentle  flowers; 

For  wedded  love  was  pure  and  free 
In  Eden's  happy  bowers. 

Young  bride, —  a  song  for  thee  I 

A  song  of  joyous  measure, 
For  thy  cup  of  hope  shall  be 

FiU'd  with  honied  pleasure. 


878  WEDDINOGIFTS. 

Young  bride, —  a  tear  for  thee  ! 

A  tear  in  all  thy  gladness; 
For  thy  young  heart  shall  not  see 

Joy  unmix' d  with  sadness. 

Young  bride, —  a  smile  for  thee  I 
To  shine  away  thy  sorrow, 

For  heaven  is  kind  to-day,  and  we 
Will  hope  as  well  to-morrow. 

Young  bride, —  a  prayer  for  thee! 

That,  all  thy  hopes  possessing. 
Thy  soul  may  praise  her  God,  and  He 

May  crown  thee  with  His  blessing. 


iPm.  1833. 

Harmless,  happy  little  treasures. 
Full  of  truth,  and  trust,  and  mirth. 

Richest  wealth,  and  purest  pleasures 
In  this  mean  and  guilty  earth. 

How  I  love  you,  pretty  creatures, 
Lamb-like  flock  of  little  things. 

Where  the  love  that  lights  your  features 
From  the  heart  in '  beauty  springs : 

On  these  laughing  rosy  faces 
There  are  no  deep  lines  of  sin, 

None  of  passion's  dreary  traces        *  ' 
That  betrny  the  wounds  within:' 


C  II I  li  U  U  E  N  .  SfQ 

But  yours  is  the  sunny  dimple 

Radiant  with  untutor'd  smiles, 
Yours  the  heart,  sincere  and  simple, 

Innocent  of  selfish  wiles; 

Yours  the  natural  curling  tresses. 

Prattling  tongues,  and  shyness  coy, 
Tottering  steps,  and  kind  caresses. 

Pure  with  health,  and  warm  with  joy. 

The  dull  slaves  of  gain,  or  passion 

Cannot  love  you  as  they  should, 
The  poor  worldly  fools  of  fashion 

Would  not  love  you  if  they  could : 

Write  them  childless,  those  cold-hearted, 

Who  can  scorn  Thy  generous  boon. 
And  whose  souls  with  fear  have  smarted, 

Lest  —  Thy  blessings  come  too  soon. 

While  he  hath  a  child  to  love  him 

No  man  can  be  poor  indeed, 
While  he  trusts  a  Friend  above  him. 

None  can  sorrow,  fear,  or  need. 

But  for  thee,  whose  hearth  is  lonely 

And  unwarm'd  by  children's  mirth, 
Spite  of  riches,  thou  art  only 

Desolate  and  poor  on  earth : 

All  unkiss'd  by  innocent  beauty, 

All  unloved  by  guileless  heart, 
All  uncheer'd  by  sweetest  duty, 

Childless  one,  how  poor  thou  art! 


880  THE    queen's    B  I  K  T  II  D  A  Y  . 


Another  year,  0  Queen  of  many  realms, 

Dawns  in  fair  promise  on  my  Sovereign's  throne; 
And,  while  the  hurrying  tempest  overwhelms 

All  climes  and  crowns  beside, — Thou,  thou  alone 

Sittest  in  majesty,  God's  favour'd  one : 
Yea,  blessed  of  the  Lord, —  how  blest  art  thou ! 

Blest  in  the  King  of  King's  own  secret  love, 
Blest  in  thy  people  never  more  than  now. 

Blest  in  the  earth  beneath  and  heaven  above  j 
And,  be  thou  blest  for  ever !  this  glad  day 

That  gave  to  us  the  mercy  of  thy  birth,  * 

Be  full  of  good  to  thee  in  God's  own  way, 

As  His  chief  child  and  servant  upon  earth 
For  whom  a  thousand  thousands  hourly  pray! 

O,  shielded  by  such  panoply  of  saints 

Forged  in  high  heaven  !  thus,  most  gracious  Queen, 
If  ever  here  thy  royal  spirit  faints 

Amid  the  perils  of  a  changeful  scene 

These  prayers  shall  pour  upon  thy  brow  serene, 
UnruflBed  radiance;  shedding  holy  balm, 
Like  moonlight  silvering  a  lake  at  calm. 

Over  thy  many  cares  and  many  fears 

So  lull'd  to  rest:  and  thus,  on  history's  page. 
Mercies  to  come  for  many  happy  years 

Shall  be  thy  birthright:  though  the  nations  rage. 
And  the  uprooted  mountains  churn  the  sea. 

The  Lord  shall  bless  thy  line  from  age  to  age. 
And  Britain  thank  her  God  for  lending  thee  I 


AQKEENHOUSE.  381 


%  (0rwnIinn3F. 


Feageant  and  fresh,  the  tropical  warm  air 

Lures  into  life  my  "bright  consummate"  flowers, 
That,  newly  bathed  in  artificial  showers, 

Show  to  the  sun  their  thousand  beauties  rare: 

Here,  in  high  pomp,  the  gorgeous  Cactus  flings 
Its  eastern  tassel  down  the  prickly  stem. 

And  Fuchsias  spread  their  tiny  scarlet  wings. 
Like  hovering  humming-birds  in  emerald  bowers: 

There,  the  tall  Amaryll's  pink  diadem 
Above  this  lowlier  Hyacinth  queenly  towers; 

While  Orange-blossoms,  mingling  in  the  throng 
With  blushing  Roses,  and  Geraniums  bright, 

Pour  forth  an  eloquent  flood  of  silent  song, 
And  wrap  the  heart  "in  dances  and  delight." 


^  §lmpt  nf  iporaMsr. 

Not  many  rays  of  heaven's  unfallen  sun 

Reach  the  dull  distance  of  this  world  of  ours, 
Nor  oft  dispel  its  shadows  cold  and  dun. 

Nor  oft  with  glory  tinge  its  faded  flowers: 
But,  oh,  if  ever  yet  there  wandcr'd  ojte, 

Like  Peri  from  her  amaranthine  bowers, 
Or  ministering  angel,  sent  to  bless, 
'Twas  to  thy  hearth,  domestic  happiness. 
Where  in  the  sunshine  of  a  peaceful  home 
Love's  choicest  roses  bud,  and  burst,  and  bloom, 
And  bleeding  hearts,  luU'd  in  a  holy  calm, 
Bathe  their  deep  wounds  in  Gilcad's  healing  balm. 


882  T  O    T  II  E    S  ()  V  K  R  E  1  O  N  . 

(Kn  \^t  ^nntrngn. 

Bold  in  my  freedom,  yet  with  homage  meek, 
As  duty  prompts  and  loyalty  commands, 

To  thee,  0  Queen  of  empires,  would  I  speak : 
Behold,  the  most  high  God  hath  giv'n  to  thee 
Kingdoms  and  glories,  might  and  majesty, 
Setting  thee  ruler  over  many  lands  j 

Him  first  to  serve,  0  Monarch,  wisely  seek: 

And  many  people,  nations,  languages, 

Have  laid  their  welfare  in  thy  sovereign  hands; 

Them  next  to  bless,  to  prosper,  and  to  please, 

Nobly  forget  thyself,  and  thine  own  ease : 
Rebuke  ill  counsel;  rally  round  thy  state 
The  scatter'd  good,  and  true,  and  wise,  and  great; 

So  Heav'n  upon  thee  shed  sweet  influences! 


^i  CDrDDotinn. 

Queen  of  the  Isles,  blue  ocean's  choicest  pearl. 
We  hail  thy  day  of  glory !  —  unto  thee 
Admiring  thousands  bend  the  duteous  knee. 
And  bless  thee  for  their  brightening  hopes,  fair  girl. 
Hark !  'tis  the  thunder  of  a  nation's  voice, 
Uttering  its  awful  love  in  loyal  peals; 
While,  as  thy  car  of  triumph  onward  wheels. 
The  trumpets  and  the  cannon,  and  the  chimes 
Bid  every  true-bom  Briton's  heart  rejoice, 
Glad  in  the  sunny  light  of  happier  times: 
And,  Maiden  Monarch,  if  amid  the  whirl 
Of  majesty  and  greatness, —  as  of  old, 
A  secret  monitor,  in  duty  bold, 
To  t€ll  thee  "thou  art  mortal,"  humbly  dares, 
For^ve  the  noble  Muse,  and  love  her  for  her  pray'rs. 


THEABBEY.  383 


June  28,  1838. 

Never  again, —  till  earth  casts  out  her  dead, 

And  teeming  ocean  yields  her  rescued  prey, — 
A  sight  so  full  of  hope,  delight,  and  dread, 

Thrilling  and  grand,  as  met  thy  view  this  day 
Mayst  thou  behold :  high  reaching  overhead 
The  light  aerial  galleries  were  throng'd 
Sublime  with  multitudes,  acclaiming  loud; 
While  far  beneath,  that  coronetted  crowd 

Sat  like  a  thousand  kings;  in  yonder  aisle 
A  virgin  troop,  azure  and  silver,  show'd 
As  spirits,  who  to  a  fairy  world  belong'd. 
Or  some  soft  nest  of  doves :  deeply  the  while 
Rolled  in  a  deluge  from  the  golden  quire 
The  tide  of  musical  praise, —  hail  mix'd  with  fire 
While  midway  throned,  the  brightest  central  gem, 

Fair  Sun  illumining  that  glorious  scene, 
In  purple  robe  and  glittering  diadem. 
Majestic  sat  Britannia's  gentle  Queen! 


Monarch  of  millions,  yet  a  gentle  maid, 
O  fair  and  young,  yet  dignified  and  sage. 

Most  glorious  Queen,  yet  in  thy  glory  staid. 
Bright  star  of  pnmiise  for  our  golden  age, 


884  UNION. 

All  bail,  the  Lord's  anointed  I     Thou  art  lent 

In  mercy,  like  our  other  blessings  all; 
A  messenger  of  peace,  divinely  sent, 

That  only  good  may  rise,  and  evil  fall; 
Heal,  then,  a  realm  by  jarring  factions  rent; 

Take  these  contentious  brothers  by  the  hand, 
Smile  down  their  quarrels,  and  unite  their  strength; 

Till,  only  jealous  for  their  father-land, 
Men  of  all  systems,  reconciled  at  length 

To  one  just  object,  take  their  patriot  stand 
Around  our  Zion's  bulwarks,  hers  alone 
The  archetypes  of  heaven, —  the  Altar  and  the  ThkoneI 


Sap  pm  hi;.     1830. 

Though  we  charge  to-day  with  fieetness, 
Though  we  dread  to-morrow's  sky, 

There's  a  melancholy  sweetness 
In  the  name  of  days  gone  by : 

Yes,  though  Time  has  laid  his  finger 
On  them,  still  with  streaming  eye 

There  are  spota  where  I  can  linger 
Sacred  to  the  days  gone  by. 

Oft  as  memory's  glance  is  ranging 

Over  scenes  that  cannot  die, 
Then  I  feel  that  all  is  changing, 

Then  I  weep  the  days  gone  by: 

Sorrowful  should  I  be,  and  lonely, 
Were  not  all  the  same  as  I, 

'Tis  for  all,  not  my  lot  only, 
To  lament  the  days  gone  by. 


D  A  Y  S    O  O  N  K    B  y  .  335 

Cease,  fond  heart, —  to  thee  are  given 

Hopes  of  better  things  on  high. 
There  is  still  a  coming  heaven 

Better  than  the  days  gone  byj 

Faith  lifts  off  the  sable  curtain 

Hiding  huge  eternity, 
Hope  accounts  her  prize  as  certain, 

And  forgets  the  days  gone  byj 

Love,  in  grateful  adoration 

Bids  distrust  and  sorrow  fly. 
And  with  glad  anticipation 

Calms  regret  for  days  gone  by. 


€)^i  Crisis.    1829. 

Hush  —  0  heaven!  a  moment  more, 
A  breath,  a  step,  and  all  is  o'er; 
Hark  —  beneath  the  waters  wild. 
Save,  0  mercy,  save  my  child. 

Swiftly  from  her  heaving  breast 

The  mother  tore  the  snowy  vest, — 

Her  little  truant  saw  and  smiled,  ■-  if* 

Tum'd, —  and  mercy  .saved  the  child. 

Thus,  the  face  of  love  can  win 
Where  fear  is  weak  to  scare  from  sin^ 
Thus,  when  faith  and  conscience  slept, 
Jesua  look'd, —  and  Peter  wept. 


886  LA  M  K  N  T . 

tmml    1837. 

Alas  !  poor  Mase,  thy  songa  are  out  of  time ; 
Thy  lot  hath  fallen  on  an  iron  age, 
When  unrelenting  war  the  sordid  wage 

Against  thee, —  counting  it  no  venial  crime 

To  fling  down  in  thy  cause  the  champion's  gage, 

Aud  utterly  scorning  him,  who  dares  to  rhyme : 
0  that  thy  thoughts  had  fiU'd  an  earlier  page, 
And  won  the  favouring  ears  of  holier  men  I 

Whose  spirits  might  with  thee  have  soar'd  sublime 
Far  above  selfish  Mammon's  crowded  den : 
Thou  hadst  been  more  at  home,  and  happier  then 

Yet  be  thou  of  good  courage;  there  are  still 

Those  "left  sev'n  thousand,"  whose  aflFections  will 

Yearn  on  thy  little  good,  and  pardon  thy  much  ill. 


Sflffltt  initji  /nrngn  l^mstrraft. .  1851, 

Christian  England !  where  so  long 
Freedom's  trumpet,  clear  and  strong, 
Still  has  stirr'd  the  patriot  song — 

Down  with  foreign  priestcraft  I 
England !  Truth's  own  island-nest, 
Pure  Religion's  happy  rest, 
Ever  shall  thy  sons  protest 

Down  with  foreign  priestcraft  I 

What!  shall  these  Italian  knaves 
Dream  again  to  make  us  slaves 
From  our  cradles  to  our  graves 

With  their  foreign  priestcraft  f 


DOWN    WITH    FOREIGN    PRIESTCRAFT.  387 

Out  on  every  false  pretence ! 
Common  right  and  common  sense 
Shout  against  such  insolence, 

Down  with  foreign  priestcraft  I 

Aye, — insidious  fawning  foe. 
Little  as  you  thought  it  so, 
England's  wrath  is  all  aglow. 

Scorning  foreign  priestcraft  — 
Take  our  Jesuits,  if  you  will, 
England's  heart  rejects  their  ill, 
And  her  mouth  is  thundering  still, 

Down  with  foreign  priestcraft 

Hark !  in  ancient  warmth  and  w^orth, 
East  and  west  and  south  and  north, 
Flies  the  loyal  spirit  forth, 

Loathing  foreign  priestcraft; 
Evermore  with  Rome  to  cope, 
We  will  bate  nor  heart  nor  hope. 
But  our  shout  shall  stun  the  Pope, 

Down  with  foreign  priestcraft! 


€jiB  Catljtlirnl  3^mL 

Temple  of  truths  most  eloquently  spoken. 

Shrine  of  sweet  thoughts  veil'd-in  with  words  of  power, 
The  "  Author's  mind  "  replete  with  hallow'd  riches 
Stands  a  Cathedral :  full  of  precious  things, — 
Tastefully  built  in  harmonies  unbroken. 

Cloister,  and  aisle,  dark  crypt,  and  aery  tower: 
Long-treasured  relics  in  the  fretted  niches, 


ggg  THECATHEDRALiMINU. 

And  secret  stores,  and  heap'd-up  ofiferings, 
Art's  noblest  gems,  with  every  fruit  and  flower, 

Paintings  and  sculpture,  choice  imaginings, 
Its  plenitude  of  wealth  and  praise  betoken : 

An  ever-burning  lamp  portrays  the  soul; 
Deep  music  all  around  enchantment  flings; 

And  God's  great  Presence  consecrates  the  whole. 


^nlitirs  k  1839. 

Chill'd  is  the  patriot's  hope,  the  poet's  prayer: 
Alas,  for  England  aud  her  tarnish'd  crown. 
Her  sun  of  ancient  glory  going  down, 
Her  foes  triumphant  in  her  friends'  despair : 
What  wonder  should  the  billows  overwhelm 

A  bark  so  mann'd  by  Comus  and  his  crew, 
"Youth  at  the  prow,  and  Pleasure  at  the  helm?" 
Yet,  no!  —  we  will  not  fear;  the  loathing  realm 
At  length  has  burst  its  chains;  a  motley  few, 
The  pseudo-saint,  the  boasting  infidel. 
The  demagogue,  and  courtier,  hand  in  hand 

No  more  besiege  our  Zion's  citadel: 
But  high  in  hope  comes  on  this  nobler  band, 
For  God,  the  sovereign,  and  our  father-land. 


Hold  thy  rash  hand!  —  for  Briton  is  no  slave, 
Thus  to  be  forced  against  her  word  and  will; 

Her  voice  is  terrible,  her  heart  is  brave, 
Her  lion-nature  free  and  fearless  still : 

Why  make  this  reckless  haste  to  compass  ill? 


TO    A    PREMIER.  389 

Be,  if  thou  canst,  deliberate  and  grave: 
For,  hark!  I  hear  upon  the  burden'd  wind 

From  fell  and  field  and  town  and  dale  and  hill, 
That  gathering  tempest  of  the  Nation's  mind, 
No  peace  with  Rome !  no  league  with  crafty  Rome  I 
Down  with  the  traitor !  who  would  smoothly  bind 

Her  chains  around  us, — and  whose  deed  would  marl 
With  the  foul  beast  our  every  hearth  and  home, 

Chan^g  our  glorious  Light  to  utter  Dark. 


Protestant  saints,  is  it  the  truth,  indeed, 
That  cold  negations  merely,  or  in  chief. 

Make  up  the  sorry  texture  of  your  creed  — 
A  torn  and  flimsy  robe  of  non-belief? 

No !  freely  as  your  fathers  would  ye  bleed, 

Positive  witnesses  for  truth  and  good; 

Worshipping  God,  instead  of  stone  and  wood, 
Pleading  all  merit  solely  in  His  Son, 

Spuming  each  other  fabulous  help,  and  aid, 
And  mediation  —  for  there  is  but  One ! 

Moreover,  this :  none  ever  stoutly  stood 

Against  the  False,  but  that  his  tcmper'd  blade, 
Pruning  that  bitter  shoot,  strengthen'd  the  bud, 
The  bud  of  Truth,  whoso  bloom  shall  never  fade. 


890  THE    U  N  HOLY    ALLIANCE. 


€)^t  nttl;nli|  iailiflnrn. 


Yes,  wo  protest!     In  just  and  generous  strife 

"We  combat  Rome,  the  idolatrous  and  proud: 
How  should  the  adulteress  and  the  married  wife 
Together  walk  adown  the  vale  of  life, 

In  a  false  peace  and  union  disallow'd? 

True,  there  be  some  pure  Abdiels  in  the  crowd. 
Faithful  among  the  faithless;  here  and  there 

A  Fcnelon,  a  Pascal,  whom  to  love 

Were  joy,  and  privilege  to  meet  above :  — 
Accidents  all,  as  angels  scant  and  rare : 

Far  other,  carved  in  rock,  and  dyed  in  black. 
Stand  in  the  sun  Rome's  evil  qualities  — 

Fraud,  force,  extortion,  pride,  the  stake,  the  rack. 
Blaspheming  guilt,  and  mad  idolatries! 


(gip^Mmil.     1839. 

Do  ill  that  good  may  come, —  so  Satan  spoke: 

Woe  to  the  land  deluded  by  that  lie. 
Woe  to  its  rulers,  for  whose  evil  sake 

The  curse  of  God  may  now  be  hovering  nigh: — 
Up,  England,  and  avert  it!  boldly  break 

The  spells  of  sorceress  Rome,  and  cast  away 
The  cords  of  bad  expedience :  is  it  wise, 

Or  right,  or  safe,  for  some  chance  gains  to-day, 
To  dare  sure  vengeance  on  to-morrow's  skies? 
Be  wiser  thou,  dear  land,  my  native  home. 
Do  always  good,  do  good  that  good  may  come; 
The  path  of  duty  lies  before  thee  plain, 

Turn  from  the  harlot  speech  of  papal  Rome, 
For  none  who  go  that  way  return  again. 


I 


GOOD    SHEPHERDS.  391 


Ye  seek  not  praise  from  man, — nor  fear  his  face; 

Then  let  my  words  be  few.     Before  your  Lord 
Commended,  as  establish'd  by  His  grace. 

Faithful  ye  stand  to  reap  a  just  reward: 
True  shepherds  of  the  flock,  whom  power  and  place 

Have  not  corrupted  from  that  lowlier  mind 
Which  dwelt  in  Him, — we  love  in  you  to  trace 

The  likeness  of  His  zeal,  in  you  to  find 
Martyrs  for  truth  amid  these  perilous  times. 

Thunders,  with  fire  and  hail,  are  threatening  roond^ 
And  good  men  tremble  at  their  rulers'  crimes; 

And  Babylon  must  rise  once  more  to  fall: 
Yet  is  there  hope;  whilst  ye  are  faithful  found, 

Zion  is  safe  behind  her  sevenfold  waU. 
26 


1849. 

€n  l^rntlitr  Snnatjiaii. 

Hoi  Brother,  I'm  a  Britisher, 

A  chip  of  heart  of  oak 
That  wouldn't  warp  or  swerve  or  stir 

From  what  I  thought  or  spoke,^ 
And  you  ■ —  a  blunt  and  honest  man, 

Straightforward,  kind,  and  true, 
I  tell  you,  Brother  Jonathan, 

That  you're  a  Briton  too. 

I  know  your  heart,  an  open  heart, 

I  read  your  mind  and  will, 
A  greyhound  ever  on  the  start 

To  run  for  honour  still; 
And  shrewd  to  scheme  a  likely  plan. 

And  stout  to  see  it  done, 
I  tell  you.  Brother  Jonathan, 

That  you  and  I  are  one  I 

There  may  be  jealousies  and  strife, 

For  men  have  selfish  ends, 
But  petty  quurrols  ginger  life, 

And  help  to  seuc«on  fiiends; 

(392) 


TO    BROTHER    JONATHAN.  898 

And  pundits  who,  with  §olemn  scan, 

Judge  humans  most  aright, 
Decide  it,  testy  Jonathan, 

That  brothers  always  fight. 

Two  fledgling  sparrows  in  one  nest 

Will  chirp  about  a  worm, 
Then  how  should  eaglets  meekly  rest, 

The  children  of  the  storm? 
No !  while  their  rustled  pinions  fan 

The  eyrie's  dizzy  side. 
Like  you  and  me,  my  Jonathan, 

It's  all  for  Love  and  Pride ! 

"God  save  the  Queen"  delights  you  still. 

And  "British  Grenadiers," 
The  good  old  strains  your  heartstrings  thrill. 

And  catch  you  by  both  ears; 
And  we, —  0  hate  us  if  you  can. 

For  we  are  proud  of  you. 
We  like  you.  Brother  Jonathan, 

And  "Yankee  Doodle"  too! 

There's  nothing  foreign  in  your  face, 

Nor  strange  upon  your  tongue, 
You  come  not  of  another  race 

From  baser  lineage  sprung; 
No,  brother !  though  away  you  ran, 

As  truant  boys  will  do. 
Still  true  it  is,  young  Jonathan, 

My  fathers  fathcr'd  you. 

Time  was, —  it  wasn't  long  ago, 

Your  grandsirc  went  with  mine 
To  battle  traitor.-*,  blow  for  blow, 

For  England's  royal  line ; 


894  TO    BROTHER    JONATHAN. 

Or  tripp'd  to  court  to  kiss  Queen  Anne^ 

Or  worship  migbty  Bess, 
And  you  and  I,  good  Jonathan, 

Went  with  them  then,  I  guess. 

Together  both, — 'twas  long  ago, 

Among  the  Roses  fought. 
Or  charging  fierce  the  Paynim  foe 

Did  all  knigbt-errants  ought : 
As  Cavalier  or  Puritan 

Together  pray'd  or  swore 
For  John's  own  Brother  Jonathan 

Was  only  John  of  yore  1 

There  lived  a  man,  a  man  of  men, 

A  King  on  fancy's  throne. 
We  ne'er  shall  see  his  like  again, 

The  globe  is  all  his  own; 
And,  if  we  claim  him  of  our  clan, 

He  half  belongs  to  you, 
For  Shakspeare,  happy  Jonathan, 

Is  yours  and  Britain's  too ! 

There  was  another  glorious  name, 

A  poet  for  all  time. 
Who  gain'd  the  double-first  of  fame, 

The  beautiful-sublime; 
And  let  us  hide  him  as  we  can, 

More  miserly  than  pelf, 
Our  Yankee  brother  Jonathan 

Cries  halves  in  Milton's  self! 

Well,  well :  and  every  praise  of  old, 
That  makes  us  famous  still, 

You  would  be  just,  and  may  be  bold 
To  share  it  if  you  will, — 


TO    BROTHER    JONATHAN.  395 

Since  England's  glory  first  began, 

Till — just  the  other  day, 
The  half  is  yours !  but,  Jonathan, 

Why  did  you  run  away? 

0  Brother,  could  we  both  be  one 

In  nation  and  in  name. 
How  gladly  would  the  very  sun 

Lie- basking  in  our  fame? 
In  either  world  to  lead  the  van 

And  go  ahead  for  good. 
While  earth  to  John  and  Jonathan 

Yields  tribute  gratitude ! 

Add  but  your  stripes  and  golden  stars 

To  brave  St.  George's  cross. 
And  never  dream  of  mutual  wars 

Two  dunces'  mutual  loss; 
Let  us  two  bless  where  others  ban. 

And  love  when  others  hate, 
And  80,  my  cordial  Jonathan, 

We'll  fit,  I  calculate. 

What  more?  I  touch  not  holier  strings 

A  loftier  strain  to  win. 
Nor  glance  at  prophets,  priests,  and  kings, 

Or  heavenly  kith  or  kin; 
As  friend  with  friend,  and  man  with  man, 

0  let  our  hearts  be  thus, 
As  David's  love  to  Jonathan, 

Be  Jonathan's  to  us! 


396  "  T  E    T  H  I  R  T  y     N  O  U  I.  i:     NATIONS. 


"^B  '^llirtii  nnbk  Jgctinns." 

Ye  Thirty  noble  Nations 

Confederate  in  One ! 
That  keep  your  starry  stations 

Around  the  Western  Sun, — 
I  have  a  glorious  mission, 

And  must  obey  the  call,— 
A  claim!  and  a  Petition! 

To  set  before  you  All. 

Away  with  party  blindness. 

Away  with  petty  spite ! 
My  Claim  is  one  of  Kindness, 

My  Prayer  is  ofie  of  Right; 
And  while  in  grace  ye  listen, — 

For  tenderness,  I  know 
Your  eyes  shall  dim  and  glisten, 

Your  hearts  shall  thrill  and  glow. 

For,  on  those  hearts  is  written 

The  spirit  of  my  song,-.— 
I  claim  your  love  for  Britain, 

In  spite  of  every  wrong ! 
I  claim  it  for  —  your  motho", 

Your  sister,  and  your  spouse, 
Your  father,  friend,  and  brother. 

The  "  Hector  "  of  your  vows  I 

In  spite  of  all  the  evils 

That  statesmen  ever  brew'd, 

Or  busy  printers'-devils, 
Or  Celtic  gratitude, — 


"TB   THIKTY    noble    nations."  397 

In  spite  of  politicians 

And  diplomatic  fuss, 
Your  feelings  and  traditions 

Are  cordiallj  with  us  I 

O  yes !  your  recollections 

Look  back  with  streaming  eye 
To  pour  those  old  affections 

On  scenes  and  days  gone  by; 
Your  Eagle  well  remembers 

His  dear  old  island-nest, 
And  sorrow  stirs  the  embers 

Of  love  within  his  breast ! 

Ah !  need  I  tell  of  places 

You  dream  and  dwell  on  still? 
Those  old  familiar  faces 

Of  English  vale  and  hill, — 
The  sites  you  think  of,  sobbing. 

And  seek  as  pilgrims  seek, 
With  brows  and  bosoms  throbbing 

And  tears  upon  your  cheek ! 

Or  should  I  touch  on  glories 

That  date  in  ages  gone, 
Those  dear  historic  stories 

When  England's  fame  was  won, — 
The  tales  your  children  thronging 

So  gladly  hear  you  tell. 
And  note  their  fathers'  longing 

And  love  that  longing  welll 

For  language,  follies,  fashions, 

Religion,  honour,  shame. 
And  human  loves  and  passions. 

Oh !  wo  are  just  the  same ; 


899  « YE    THIRTY    N  on  LE    NATIONS/*' 

You,  you  arc  England,  growing 

To  Continental  state. 
And  we  Columbia,  glowing 

With  all  that  makes  you  great! 

Yes,  Anglo-Saxon  brother, 

I  see  your  heart  is  right, — 
And  we  will  warm  each  other 

With  all  our  loves  alight; 
In  feeling  and  in  reason 

My  Claim  is  stow'd  away, — 
And  kissing  is  in  season 

For  ever  and  a  day !  — 

And  now  in  frank  contrition, 

0  brother  mine,  give  heed, — 
And  hear  the  just  Petition 

My  feeble  tongue  would  plead; 
I  plead  across  the  waters. 

So  deeply  crimson-stain'd. 
For  Afrio's  sons  and  daughters 

Whom  freemen  hold  enchain'd  I 

I  taunt  you  not  unkindly 

With  ills  you  didn't  make, 
I  would  not  wish  you  blindly 

In  haste  the  bond  to  break; 
But  tenderly  and  truly 

To  file  away  the  x;hain. 
And  render  justice  duly 

To  Man's  Estate  again! 

0  judge  ye  how  degrading, — 
A  Christian  bought  and  soldt 

And  human  monsters  trading 
In  human  flesh  for  gold  I 


"ye  thirty  noble  nations 

When  ruthlessly  they  plunder 
Poor  Afric's  homes  defiled, 

And  all  to  sell  —  asunder  I 
The  mother  and  her  child. 

O  free  and  fearless  Nation, 

Wipe  out  this  damning  spot, 
Earth's  worst  abomination, 

And  nature's  blackest  blot; 
Begin  and  speed  the  rather 

To  help  with  hand  and  eye 
The  children  of  your  Father 

Beneath  His  tropic  sky. 

He  —  He  who  form'd  and  frees  us 

And  makes  us  white  within, 
Who  knows  how  Holy  Jesus 

May  love  that  tinted  skin! 
For  none  can  tell  how  darkly 

The  sun  of  Jewry  shed 
Its  burning  shadows  starkly 

On  Jestj's  homeless  head  I 

And  lo !  One  great  salvation 

Hath  burst  upon  the  World, — 
And  God's  Illumination 

Like  noonday  shines  unfurl'd; 
Shall  bonds  or  colour  pale  it? 

Candace's  Eunuch  —  say!  — 
The  first,  though  black,  to  hail  it, 

And  love  the  Gospel  Day! 

Columbia,  well  I  note  it, 

That  half  your  sons  are  strong 

Against  this  ill,  and  vote  it 
A  folly  and  a  wrong; 


399 


4M  YE    THIRTY    NOBLE    NATIONS.' 

Yet,  lurks  there  not  a  loathing, 
Ay,  with  your  best  inclined, 

Against  that  sable  clothing 

Of  Man's  own  heart  and  mind? 

I  charge  you  by  your  power. 

Your  freedom  and  your  fame, 
To  speed  the  blessed  hour 

That  wipes  away  this  Shame: 
By  all  life's  hopes  and  wishes 

And  fears  beyond  the  grave, 
Kenounce  these  blood-bought  riches, 

And  frankly  free  the  slave  I 

So  let  whatever  threaten, 

While  God  is  on  our  side, 
•  ... 

Columbia  and  Britain 

The  world  shall  well  divide, — 
Divide?  —  No!  in  one  tether 

Of  Anglo-Saxon  might 
We'll  hold  the  world  together 

In  peace  and  love  and  right! 


HuzzAH  for  guessing  —  brother  mine! 

I  guess'd  we  loved  each  other; 
Huzzah !  I  scarce  can  drop  a  line 

Without  the  tag  of — brother; 
Huzzah !  for  all  the  kind  Replies 

Wherewith  you  bless  and  love  me, — 
They  thrill  my  heart  and  fill  my  eyes 

With  thanks  to  God  above  me ! 


John's    REJOINDER.  401 

From  East  to  "West,  from  North  to  South, 

Through  all  your  boundless  regions. 
The  staves  that  tumble  from  my  mouth 

Have  stirr'd  your  thousand  legions; 
Have  made  the  hearts  of  women  ache, 

The  minds  of  men  to  flutter. 
Because  you  felt  before  I  spake 

The  words  that  I  would  utter! 

You  felt  that  Britain  loved  you  still, 

Your  foolish  fond  old  mother, — 
And  gave  her, —  not  against  your  will,— 

The  love  you  cannot  smother! 
You  felt  that  you,  though  new,  are  Old 

As  England's  ancient  glories, — 
You  throbb'd  to  feel  your  triumphs  told 

In  all  her  strains  and  stories! 

0  yes !  dear  brethren  o'er  the  sea. 
Your  verses,  loves,  and  letters 

Have  been  a  mix'd  account  with  me 
Where  both  of  us  are  debtors; 

1  owe  you  gratitude  and  praise 
For  gratitude  and  praises, 

And  when  in  thanks  your  heart  you  raise 
His  thanks  my  heart  upraises! 

Not  that,  good  Jonathan,  we  try 

The  game  of  mutual  scratching, — 
You,  Yankee  true,  and  John  Bull  I 

Breed  fowls  of  purer  hatching; 
We  tell  the  truth;  not  less  nor  more; 

So  be  it  kindly  spoken; 
For  thus,  no  heart  was  e'er  made  sore, 

No  head  was  ever  broken. 


4(hl  John's  rejoinder. 

When  Pegasus  I  sit  astride 

I  fill  my  saddle  squarely, — 
No  fence  so  high,  no  ditch  so  wide, 

But  I  will  take  it  fairly; 
I  hate  the  nambypamby  plan 

Of  lounging  upon  pillions, — 
What  I  would  say  to  one  plain  man 

I'll  sing  to  fifty  millions ! 

No  truckling  tricks  will  do  for  us, 

The  this-and-that-way  swerving; 
K  John  is  pleased  to  praise  you  thus, 

It's  that  you're  well  deserving: 
But  should  he  fawn  your  faults  forsooth? 

Such  meanness  —  I  abhor  it, — 
No, —  since  in  love  I  speak  the  truth. 

Come,  kiss  your  brother  for  it! 

Now,  lately,  with  a  faithful  hand 

I  touch'd,  in  love  and  lightness. 
The  one  black  spot  upon  your  land. 

The  shadow  to  your  brightness; 
I  know  how  hard  it  is  to  cure 

That  sore, —  and  how  you  rue  it, — 
But,  Jonathan,  of  this  I'm  sure, 

You'll  soon  and  somehow  —  do  it! 

More  haste  less  speed;  so  speed  apace, 

As  prudent  duty  bids  you; 
'Twill  be  indeed  a  year  of  grace 

That  of  this  scandal  rids  you: 
The  land  of  liberty  and  light. 

The  Beacon  on  the  Waters, 
Shall  soon  be  quit  of  blame  and  blight 

For  Afric's  sons  and  daughters ! 


John's  bejoindeb.  40:i 

You  best  know  how,  and  why,  and  whenj 

For  us,  we  cannot  teach  you; 
But  simply, —  by  the  rights  of  Men 

And  Women, —  we  beseech  you  I 
Take  copy,  brother,  only  here, — 

By  Britain's  good  intentions; 
For  all  beside  a  conscience  clear 

We've  got  but  bad  inventions ! 

Our  faults  were  haste,  and  wanton  waste, 

Disinterested  ruin ! 
Don  Quixote  stood  to  tilt  for  good, 

And  lo!  his  own  undoing: 
But  Jonathan,  a  shrewder  man, 

A  very  early  riser, — 
I  credit  you  to  find  a  plan 

To  manage  matters  wiser! 

The  wise,  my  Jonathan,  he  knows 

That  all  things  here  need  mending; 
And  best  of  friends  are  always  those 

Who  never  fear  offending; 
0  blind,  and  halt,  and  full  of  fault 

Are  uien  of  every  nation. 
Then  how  should  we,  true  friend,  be  free 

From  that  which  dims  Creation? 

Never  again  shall  we  two  part 

In  hatred  or  rejection, — 
Nor  ever  meet,  but  either  heart 

Shall  beat  with  true  affection; 
Our  "  brother  banners ' '  we  will  rear 

For  Fatherland  and  Sonland, 
Because,  Columbia  near  and  dear, 

We  twain  arc  truly  one-land  I 


404  A    STAVE    FOR    TIIR    SUUTH. 

Ay,  Jonathan, —  take  Jf>hn  for  this, 

Your  brother  staunch  and  steady, 
The  very  mind  and  man,  I  wis. 

To  like  old  "Rough  and  Ready!" 
Then  —  cheers  for  Taylor, —  great  and  wise 

Because  un-glory-billen, — 
And  —  yes,  I  see  it  in  your  eyes, 

Nine  more  for  Vic.  and  Britain  ! 


51  Itnire  for  tjiB  Intrtlj. 

I  KNEW  it,  I  guess'd  it!  you  do  what  you  can; 

It's  hardly  your  fault  if  you  can't : 
You  wish  better  things;  but  a  man  is  but  Man, 

And  often  must  wait  and  must  want: 
For  System,  and  matters  and  things  as  they  are 

Have  order 'd  and  settled  it  so. 
That  we  who  are  judging  your  case  from  afar 

Know  little  —  how  little  we  know ! 

Ay,  glad  would  ye  be,  (let  me  credit  you  this,) 

If  on  your  American  shore 
Slavery  never  had  been  as  it  is. 

And  never  should  be  any  more ! 
But  how  to  get  rid  of  so  ancient  an  ill, 

And  safely  and  sagely  to  heal 
A  canker  so  deep,  is  the  mystery  still. 

And  who  shall  its  riddle  reveal? 

Moreover, — and,  Conscience,  I  give  tlee  this  nudge, 

A  sinner,  but  yesterday  shriven. 
How  dare  he  set  up  in  the  seat  of  the  judge 

The  culprit  so  lately  forgiven  ? 


A    8TAVE    FOR    THE    SOUTH.  405 

But  yesterday,  half  Britain's  colonies  rung 

With  slavery's  echoing  chain, — 
And  ill  it  becomes  us  with  Pharisee  tongue 

To  mock  at  a  planter  again ! 

Yet  more:  for  that  planter's  own  father  —  and  cur's, 

This  sin  as  a  legacy  left, 
A  fly  in  the  ointment,  a  snake  in  the  flowers, 

An  Achan's  inherited  theft ! 
0  Britain,  thy  child,  thy  Columbian  child 

Received  at  thy  step-mother  hand 
The  gain  —  or  the  curse,  that  we  hold  him  defiled 

If  he  leaves,  aa  he  found,  in  the  land ! 

And  well  do  I  gather,  0  friends  in  the  South, 

That  zealots  dishonestly  rave 
With  bitter  intent  and  a  slanderous  mouth 

Of  the  woes  that  you  deal  to  the  slave; 
Not  cruel,  not  careless  of  body  or  mind, 

Not  heartless,  nor  heedless  are  ye, — 
But  good  and  true  masters,  indulgent  and  kind, 

Ay,  kinder  than  we  to  the  free  ! 

For  sadly  I  note  that  on  Liberty's  coast 

The  Briton  may  starve  at  his  toil. 
Though  loud  be  profession,  and  principle's  boast 

That  here  are  no  serfs  of  the  soil ! 
Ah,  tell  me  how  freedom  is  freedom,  if  Life 

Depends  upon  servitude  stem? 
And  perishing  children  and  famishing  wife 

Live  only  so  long  as  you  earn? 

No!  words  are  not  things:  unfairly  we  speak 

As  if  freedom  were  freedom  indeed; 
While  pallid  and  hollow  is  poverty's  check, 

And  deeply  her  bosom  doth  bleed: 


406  ASTAVEF0RTHE80UTH. 

Let  Britain  and  Erin  and  all  the  worid  o'er, 

Though  boasting  of  liberty  still, 
Be  humble  and  dumb,  when  the  weak  and  the  poor 

Drain  Slavery's  bitterest  ill! 

And  more :  for  of  old  a  mysterious  curse 

Dark  Canaan  mark'd  for  its  prey; 
And  Prophecy  knew  that  their  lot  should  be  worse, 

"The  servants  of  servants"  are  they! 
And  if  the  glad  Gospel  has  scatter'd  that  harm 

With  a  Catholic  message  of  peace. 
It  is  not  at  once  that  it  shatters  the  charm 

And  calls  on  the  sorrow  to  cease ! 

So  then,  loving  brother!  consider  my  speech; 

I  judge  not,  I  dare  not  condemn ; 
But  let  the  great  nations  of  History  teach 

How  slavery's  curse  ruin'd  them ! 
Let  Babylon,  Persia,  and  Athens,  and  Tyre, 

And  Egypt,  and  Carthage,  and  Home, 
Declare  the  dark  doom  that  they  saw  drawing  nigher, 

As  slavery  swarm'd  in  the  home ! 

With  shame  I  confess  that  so  late  and  so  long 

We,  Britons  and  Christians  and  all. 
Against  our  Father  and  brethren  did  wrong 

By  holding  those  brethren  in  thrall : 
Yet  now  have  we  turn'd  from  the  sin  and  the  shame 

And  tenderly  pray  and  expect 
The  child  whom  we  love  to  do  sagely  the  same    . 

Before  he  be  ruin'd  and  wreck 'd ! 

Move  wisely  and  warily;  haste  is  but  waste 

Of  mercy,  and  safety,  and  wealth : 
Remember  that  prudence  was  never  misplaced, 

And  good  may  be  compass'd  by  stealth : 


A    STAVE    FOR    THE    SOUTH.  407 

For  Prudence  is  Providence  all  the  world  o'er, 

And  wiser  than  we  were,  be  ye; 
Teach,  train,  and  instruct,  ere  you  open  the  door 

To  let  the  born  bondman  go  free. 

In  wisdom  and  mercy,  redeem  when  you  can; 

Let  good  willing  service  be  paid; 
Remember  the  rights  and  the  wrongs  of  a  Man, 

And  that  "  of  one  blood  we  are  made ; " 
Hold  sacred  Affections,  in  black  as  in  white; 

No  babe  from  the  mother  divide; 
And  welcome,  as  friendly.  Religion's  true  Light; 

And  lay  the  red  lashes  aside! 

Then,  in  the  full  season,  with  caution  and  care 

Join  England  in  freeing  the  slave; 
And  all  the  degenerate  world  shall  not  dare 

Take  from  him  the  gift  that  WE  gave  ! 
K  glorious  Columbia  with  Britain  unite 

In  killing  this  hydra  of  earth. 
Oh !  Man  shall  have  gain'd  more  of  Good  and  of  Bight^ 

Than  all  California's  worth ! 


':^ft  mu  flgaia." 


Yet  once  again,  my  Jonathan  1 

Your  loving  brother  greets  you, 
To  do  you  all  the  good  he  can. 

Yes,  every  time  he  meets  you; 
To  speak  with  true  and  tender  tongue, 

Not  like  a  scolding  Stentor, 
But  (though  a  year  or  so  too  young) 

A  frank  and  faithful  Mentor. 

27 


408  "  Y  E  T    O  N  C  E    A  «  A  I  N  ." 

See!  from  my  tosscll'd  wrist  upsprings 

No  falcon  with  its  jesses, 
But  a  fair  dove,  whose  silver  wiugs 

Were  made  for  soft  caresses; 
Right  glad  the  olive-branch  to  bear 

Across  the  sounding  ocean, 
And  find  a  welcome  everywhere 

la  every  heart's  emotion  I 

And  here  to-day  my  carrier  dove 

Is  burden'd  with  a  packet, 
Which,  well  inscribed  with  peace  and  love, 

Has  justice  too  to  back  it; 
For  many  sterner  souls  there  be 

Who  nurse  their  wrongs  intently, 
And  well  it  were,  if  all,  like  me. 

Could  judge  and  chide  you  gently. 

They  say, —  ay,  many  sorts  of  men, 

In  bitterness  they  say  it, — 
You  borrow'd  of  the  world,  and  then 

Resolve  you  won't  repay  it; 
That  sundry  of  the  thirty  States 

Which  heap  your  giant  nation, 
Disgrace  their  honourable  mates 

By  rank  "  Repudiation." 

They  say, —  and  make  believe  you  say, — 

"  What  fools  they  were  to  lend  it ; 
We  calculate  that  everyway 

They  gave  it  us  to  spend  it: 
And  since  it's  sunk  in  road  and  rail, 

Canal,  and  dock,  and  clearing, — 
Our  creditors  arc  out  of  hail, 

And  we'll  l>e  hard  of  hearing !'* 


"YKT    once    AQAIN."  400 

I  don't  believe  it,  Jonathan; 

You're  wiser,  truer,  better: 
I  know  you'll  pay  us  when  you  can, 

And  blush  to  be  a  debtor: 
Not  Illinois,  nor  Michigan, 

Florida,  nor  Arkansas, 
Nor  Mississippi,  to  a  man. 

Would  give  such  shabby  answers: 

I  don't  believe  it;  never  did; 

I'd  buy  your  stocks  to-morrow; 
I  only  wish  my  purse  could  bid 

For  all  that  you  can  borrow; 
I'd  lend  in  faith  and  patience  too, 

But  cannot  quite  afford  it, — 
Because  in  lending  cash  to  you 

I  know  we  do  but  hoard  it. 

For,  men  must  wait  at  any  rate 

(It  stands  to  rhyme  and  reason,) 
Till  Labour  in  a  rising  State 

Produces  in  its  season ; 
Till  banks,  canals,  and  roads,  and  rails 

Are  well  in  working  order. 
And  better  hap  and  prosperous  gales 

Are  every  one's  rewarder. 

Now  then  !  —  Behold  that  better  bap  I 

A  mighty  store  of  treasure 
Is  pour'd  into  Columbia's  lap 

In  Californiau  measure ; 
Commerce,  and  labour,  land,  and  gold, 

And  s|iirited  migration 
Now  bless  your  shorrs  an  hundred  fold 

And  —  shame  llcpudiation  ! 


410  "YET    ONCE    AGAIN." 

Up,  worthies  all!  up,  kindly  stock! 

Up,  all  my  honest  hearties  I 
And  bring  to  shame's  own  whipping-block 

The  few  defaulting  parties : 
Why  should  a  tythe  of  all  your  States 

Throw  scorn  upon  the  others, 
And  lay  dishonour'd  debts  as  rates 

Upon  their  better  brothers? 

No!  ten  long  years  is  long  enough 

Without  a  longer  dating: 
And  times  are  smooth  that  once  were  rjugh. 

And  all  the  world's  awaiting : 
And  many  sneers  at  Jonathan 

Will  no  more  get  a  hearing, 
And  spite  have  lived  its  little  span 

In  bygone  pamphleteering: 

And  many  a  widow's  heart  for  joy 

Will  brighten  into  gladness, — 
And  many  an  orphan  girl  and  boy 

Forget  their  years  of  sadness, — 
And  many  an  honest  poor  old  man 

Shall  have  outlived  his  ruin, 
If  you,  my  brother  Jonathan, 

Be  only  up  and  doing! 

Pull  one,  pull  all !  and  break  away 

From  this  reproachful  halter, 
Let  not  one  witling  have  to  say. 

One  Yankee's  a  defaulter : 
Kick  out  the  rogues,  if  rogues  there  be; 

Why  should  they  blot  your  brightness? 
And  let  all  Europe  shout  to  see 

Your  honour  and  uprightness! 


"YET    ONTK    AGAIN.'  4Ji 

0  children  of  a  noble  race, 
Go  on  and  prosper  greatly ! 

1  love  your  Anglo-Saxon  face, 
A  British  face  so  lately; 

Let  Spain  alone  be  found  in  fraud, 

And  scorn  be  found  upon  her; 
But  stand  with  us,  and  blaze  abroad 

In  Anglo-Saxon  honour  I 


Enrks  nljtiiii! 

A    WORD   TO   A   GREAT   NATION. 

Steady,  steady,  gallant  vessel ! 

Hard  aport, —  obey  the  helm ; 
Lest  the  breakers  round  thee  wrestle, 

Lest  the  billows  overwhelm : 
Though  so  pleasant  just  at  present 

Be  the  voyage  thou  hast  sped, 
There  is  peril,  stark  and  sterile, 

Look  you !  in  the  Rocks  ahead  I 

See,  that  license  of  opinion 

Stifle  not  zeal's  holy  flame, 
Till  Religion's  pure  dominion 

Dwindle  feebly  to  a  name; 
Greed  of  gain,  and  sordid  senses 

Tempt  the  waywardness  of  youth, 
And  it  needs  the  blest  defences 

Of  the  citadel  of  truth. 


412  ROCKS  ahead! 

See,  that  no  pcruicious  panic 

Scare  the  good  from  duty's  post, 
Lest,  by  power  grown  tyrannic, 

Liberty  be  but  a  boast ; 
Let  the  greatest,  best,  and  wisest 

Calmly  guide  thine  eagle  course, 
Or  no  more  to  heaven  thou  risest, 

Headlong  flung  with  downward  force  I 

Let  the  Press,  with  truth  enlighten'd, 

Nobly  lead  the  People's  mind, 
That,  while  public  wrongs  are  righten'd, 

Private  names  go  unmalign'd; 
'         Let  not  evil  spirits  pander 

To  the  passions  of  the  mob, 
Nor  the  pen  be  dipp'd  in  slander, 

God  and  man  of  love  to  rob. 

If,  all  clamour  overriding, 

Law  supremely  rules  the  land, — 
If  domestic  love  abiding 

Guides  at  home  with  patriarch  hand,— 
K  refinement  chastens  pleasure, — 

K  fair  dealing  hallows  gain, — 
If  wise  intervals  of  leisure 

Soothe  the  heart,  and  clear  the  brain, — 

K,  both  justly  and  discreetly 

From  reproach  thy  fame  to  save, 
Not  too  rudely,  not  too  fleetly, 

Soon  thou  settest  free  the  slave, — 
If  United,  now  and  ever, — 

Thou  shalt  grow  so  great  to  be. 
That  the  wondering  World  may  never 

Through  all  time  thine  Equal  seel 


ROCKS    auead!  413 

Yes!  —  as  now,  let  Patriots  steer  thee, 

Undismay'd  by  men  or  things, 
Let  Religion's  cherub  cheer  thee. 

As  aloft  she  sits  and  sings, — 
So  an  Eden,  not  an  Edom, 

Shall  thy  happy  name  be  read, 
And  the  glorious  ship  of  Freedom 

Weather  all  the  rocks  ahead ! 


%  Itanr. 

(by  request,) 
On  behalf  of  the  Floating  '«  Church  of  the  Redeemer."    Philadelphia,  1851. 

Auk  of  refuge,  House  of  pray'r, 

Floating  Island  of  the  blest, 
Church  of  the  Rodoemcr,  where 

Jesus  gives  the  weary  rest,^ — 
AVhiiro  the  soul  may  get  true  gain, 

Richer  than  the  spoil  of  kings, 
And,  set  free  from  Satan's  chain, 

Find  its  life  in   Ilcuvcnly  things, 

Modest  little  floating  Church, 

Wisely  points  thy  spire  on  high, 
Winning  every  liourt  to  search 

For  the  treasures  of  the  sky; 
For  all  jjurity  and  peace, 

Grace  below,  and  bliss  above ; 
For  the  storms  of  Sin  to  cease, 

'Uiaus'Iii';  to  the  calm  of  liOvo  I 


414  A    STAVE. 

In  tho  midst  of  cIustcriDg  ships, 

Busy  wharves  and  Mammon's  leaven, 
Here  Religion's  heart  and  lips 

Consecrate  one  spot  to  Heaven : 
Yet,  alas !  for  zeal  grown  cold, — 

Feebly  burns  her  altar-fire, 
And  the  mist  of  lacking  gold 

Overclouds  this  humble  spire ! 

Wealthy  city,  great  and  fair 

Prosperous  child  of  plain  old  Penn, 
Named  by  his  paternal  care 

Full  of  Brother's-love  of  Men, — 
Use  thy  greatness  and  thy  wealth 

For  thy  Brethren's  weal  aright, 
That  their  hearts  rejoice  in  health. 

And  their  minds  be  glad  with  light  I 

Simple  Children  of  the  Sea, 

Bred  on  board  of  ship  or  boat, 
These  desire  to  bend  the  knee. 

In  a  Sailors'  Church  —  afloat; 
Give  their  natural  wish  success. 

Seal  to  them  this  House  of  pray'r, 
And  with  Christian  bounty  bless 

The  Floating  Church  of  Delaware  I 


NIAGARA.  iin 

Jiiagarc. 

I  long'd  for  Andes  all  around,  and  Alps, 

Hoar  kings  and  priests  of  Nature,  robed  in  snow, 
Throned  as  for  judgment  in  a  solemn  row 
With  icy  mitres  on  their  granite  scalps. 

Dumb  giants,  frowning  at  the  strife  below, 
I  long'd  for  the  Sublime! 

Thou  art  too  fair, 
Too  fair,  Niagara,  to  be  sublime : 

In  calm  slow  strength  thy  mighty  floods  o'erflow, 
And  stand  a  cliff  of  cataracts  in  the  air, — 
Yet,  all  too  beauteous  water-bride  of  Time, 

Veil'd  in  soft  mists,  and  cinctured  by  the  bow, 
Thy  pastoral  charms  may  fascinate  the  sight, 

But  have  not  force  to  set  my  soul  aglow 
Raptured  by  fear,  and  wonder,  and  delight. 

(Dnr  Baij. 

A   SONNET   FOR   THE   TIMES. 

0,  BUT  how  great  a  thing  it  is,  how  glad. 

To  live  in  this  our  day !  when  plain  strong  sense. 

Free  knowledge,  and  Religion's  influence. 
Build  up  a  wall  against  the  false  and  bad, 

And  give  the  good  both  temple  and  defence: 

To  live  —  when  ancient  cnmitii;s  intense 
Turn  to  new  brotherhood  till  riow  unknown  ; 

When  science  and  invention  bless  the  world. 

Banishing  half  our  pains  and  troubles  hence; 
When  time  seems  lengthened,  distance  nearer  grown; 

When  tyranny  from  every  throne  is  hurled; 
When  Right  is  Might,  and  Reason  holds  her  own  : 

0,  happy  day !  fur  prophets,  priests  and  kings 

Have  longed  in  vain  to  see  such  glorious  things! 


41U  THE    MISSIONARY    JUBILEE    UYMN". 

€^  Missinnnrii  MWn  33pn: 

Fob  Jvvx  16,  1851. 
by  request. 

(Tune,  as  Psalm  149, —  0  praise  ye  the  Lord,  ^.) 

0  COME,  let  us  sing, 

Give  thanks^  and  rejoicd, 
To  God,  the  great  King, 

With  heart  and  with  voice ! 
All  honours  and  prai.ses 

To  JESUS  belong. 
To  Him  the  Church  raises 

Her  Jubilee  Song. 

Again,  in  swift  race 

The  years  have  sped  round, 
And  still,  in  His  grace 

Our  blessings  are  found ; 
By  seven  times  seven 

He  gives  evermore 
For  earth  and  for  heaven 

A  bountiful  store ! 

0  well  may  the  world 

This  year  spread  abroad 
The  legend  unfurl'd 

Of  "Thanks  to  the  Lord;" 
0  well  may  each  nation 

With  brotherly  voice 
For  Gospel  Salvation 

Together  rejoice ! 


THE    MISSIONARY    JUBILEE    HYMN. 

From  England  the  Old 

To  England  the  New, 
From  Labrador's  cold 

To  tropic  Peru, 
From  Afric's  Liberia 

Till  China  be  reach'd, 
From  Scinde  to  Siberia 

The  Gospel  is  preach'd ! 

And  thrice,  iu  the  sound 

Of  every  tongue 
All  the  world  round 

The  trumpet  hath  rung; 
Our  Jubilee's  warning 

Proclaims  from  above 
The  blaze  oT  the  morning 

Of  Freedona  and  Love ! 

Ye  freemen  of  light, 

Ye  peace-lovers  all, 
As  brethren  unite 

On  JESUS  to  call; 
One  fold  and  one  Pastor, — 

0  now  let  us  raise 
To  Thee,  Blessed  ^Master, 

Our  Jubilee  praise  I 


418  OaATITUDS. 


(0rntitiik. 

I  NUMBER  you  by  thousands,  unseen  friends, 

And  dearly  precious  is  your  love  to  me : 

Yea,  what  a  goodly  company  ye  be ! 
Far  as  the  noble  brotherhood  extends 

Of  English  hearts  and  tongues  o'er  land  and  sea: 
How  rich  am  I  in  love !  —  the  sweet  amends 

For  all  whatever  little  else  of  pain 
Some  few  unkindly  cause ;  —  most  rich  in  love, 

From  mine  own  home  to  earth's  remotest  ends: 
Let  me  then  count  my  store,  my  glorious  gain, 

This  wealth,  that  my  poor  merit  far  transcends, 
Your  loving  kindness, —  echoing  from  above 
The  Highest  Blessing  on  my  works  and  ways, 
"  Eu  doule  agalhe,"  my  Father's  praise : 

Yea,  let  me  thank  you;  let  my  heart  outpour 

In  humbleness  its  earnest  gratitude 

To  all  whose  yearnings  follow  me  with  good, 
Loving  my  mind  and  all  its  simple  store : 

0  generous  friends  !  —  a  cordial  multitude 
Hived  in  the  West,  upon  that  busy  shore 

Where  fair  Columbia,  Britain's  child,  is  throned 

Imperial,  yet  with  empire  all  unown'd, — 
O  generous  friends !  —  another  cordial  band 

From  far  Australia  to  the  Arctic  Seas, 
And  crowds  around  me  in  mine  own  dear  land. 

What  thanks  to  pay  for  mercies  great  as  these  ?- 
Felt  from  the  heart,  and  by  the  tongue  confest, 
Be  the  deep  love  of  one  so  nobly  blest! 


GRATITUDE.  419 

Ay:  blest  indeed  above  the  mass  of  men 

And  rich  in  joys  that  reach  the  true  sublime! 

For  that  the  frequent  droppings  of  my  pen 
Have  comforted  the  Good  in  every  clime 
And  help'd  the  Right, —  (0  solace  beyond  time!) 

Therefore  my  soul  is  glad :  judge  me,  my  friends, 
Is  there  not  happier  treasure  in  such  joys 
Than  all  the  world  can  win  from  all  its  toys? 

And,  as  the  poet's  dynasty  extends 

To  children's  children,  reigning  in  the  mind, 
Is  he  not  crown'd  a  king  among  his  kind? 
Ah  me  1  not  so :  this  thought  of  pride  destroys : 

Give  God  the  praise  :  His  blessing  sends  this  store 

Of  unseen  friends  by  thousands  evermore  ! 


Thus  far  :  a  few  of  my  less  faulty  flowers 

Dropt  on  the  highway  for  the  passers-by; 
In  grace  and  charity,  good  world  of  our's. 

Leave  not  the  foundlings  freezingly  to  die; 
They  have  bloom'd  thus  within  my  fancy's  bowers 

Willing  as  weeds,  perchance  as  little  worth; 

Yet  have  I  hoped  them  not  all  things  of  earth; 
For  fervently  beneath  my  flashing  pen 

As  quicken'd  sometimes  by  angelic  powers 
Thoughts  have  shot  out  to  hit  the  hearts  of  men,— 

Whilst  on  mine  own  the  spirit  of  light  and  love 
So  winningly  hath  shed  his  heavenly  showers, 
That  my  glad  songs  have  fill'd  no  toilsome  hours, 

But  happy  moments  lent  me  from  above. 

0£a  AOSA. 


Natural,  Trnthful,  and  Enticing 


THE 

HOMESTEAD  ON  THE  HILLSIDE, 

l^iiitt  (Dt|n-  Mts. 

BY    MRS.    MARY  J.   HOLMKS, 

The  Popular  Anthor  of  "Tempest  «nd  Sunshine"  and  "The  English  Orphans." 
In  One  Volume^  380  Pages,  12mo.    Price  fl  00. 

The  nnmerons  and  delighted  readers  of  "Tkmpmt  and  StrNsnujE"  and  "Thk  Ex- 
SLiSH  Orphans " — Mrs.  Holmes' former  worlcs — will  be  pleased  to  learn  that  another 
work  of  their  favorite  author  is  again  within  their  reach.  That  this  work  will  be  ea- 
gerly sought  and  widely  rea<l,  her  former  brilliant  success  affords  the  surest  puaranty. 

Mrs.  Holmes  is  a  peculiarly  pleasant  and  fascinating  writer.  Her  subjects  are  the  home 
end  family  relations.  She  has  the  happy  faculty  of  enlisting  the  sympathies  and  affec- 
tions of  her  readers  and  of  holding  their  attention  to  her  pages,  with  deep  and  absorbing 
interest  'Flic  Homostead  on  tbc  Hillside  is,  therefore,  attracting  the 
liveliest  attention ;  and  readers  and 

REVIEWERS  ARE  DECIDED  IN  ITS  PRAISE. 
Any  one  taking  up  the  book  must  take  a  "through  ticket,"  as  there  is  no  stopping 
place  "this  side"  of  the  last  page.  The  arts  of  the  designing^woman  are  given  in  their 
true  color,  showing  to  what  oily-tongned  hypocrisy  humanity  will  stoop  for  the  further- 
ance of  its  purposes ;  what  a  vast  amount  of  unhappiness  one  individual  may  bring  up- 
on an  otherwise  happy  family;  what  untold  misery  may  result  from  the  groveling  spirit 
of  fancied  revenge,  when  cherished  in  the  bosom  of  ita  unhappy  possessor. — Brockport 

The  talented  author  of  "Tempest  and  Sunshine"  has  again  hit  on  a  happy  subject 
"The  Homestea<l  on  the  Hillside"  has  afforded  her  ample  scope  for  the  exercise  of  those 
high  descriptive  powers  and  those  striking  portraitures  of  character  which  have  ren- 
dered her  former  works  such  general  favorites.  In  one  word,  the  book  before  us  is  no 
ordinary  pToductioa.—PhUadelp/i.ia  Daily  News. 

Vigor,  variety,  a  boldness  and  freedom  of  style  and  expression,  eccentricity  alike  of 
character  and  incident  are  among  its  most  striking  peculiarities.  She  has  improved,  in 
the  book  before  us,  upon  her  first  effort,  and  several  of  these  tales  will  not  fail  to  add  to 
her  already  well  established  reputation  as  a  vigorous  and  attractive  writer. — Host.  Atlas. 

The  artfulness  and  resignation  exhibited  by  the  Widow  Carter,  in  her  modest  but  not 
nnnatural  endeavors  to  gain  the  tender  regard  of  Mr.  Hamilton,  as  she  smoothed  the  pil- 
U>w  of  Ills  dying  wife,  deserve  the  especial  attention  of  gentlemen  liable  toa  likeattempt 
fi-om  a  similar  cau.se.  They  will  doubtless  see  a  dozen  widows  in  the  very  dress  and  po- 
sition of  the  philanthropic  Mrs.  Carter.  There  fe  quite  a  moral  for  young  Mis-ses,  too,  in 
the  Iwok."— JV.  Y.  Dutchman. 

It  cannot  fail  to  please  the  lovers  of  flowing  and  graceful  narrative. — Tnbiin«. 

It  will  be  superfluous  to  say  that  Mrs.  Holmes  is  a  charming  writer.— TV-m*  Flag. 

Its  genial  spirit,  its  ready  wit,  its  kindly  feeling,  will  doubtless  meet  with  due  appreci- 
ation from  all  its  readers,  "it  touches  with  ready  sympathy  the  fountains  of  mirtli  and 
ti-ar*.  and  one  can  neither  restrain  the  one  nor  withhold  the  other,  in  reading  Its  talcs  of 
joy  and  sorrow. — Broome  Repub. 

We  have  pernsed  this  book  with  none  but  feelings  of  pleasure;  and  we  hare  closed  its 

fmges.  bearing  in  our  heart  its  sweet  spirit  and  eloquent  moral.     We  heartily  commend 
\,—Lockpori  Courier. 

Her  portrayal  of  human  character  and  actions  are  admirable;  her  style  is  fluent  and 
fascinating,  and  a  most  intense  degree  of  interest  is  kept  np  throughout  the  volume. 
But  among  all  its  excellent  qualities,  most  prominent  appears  its  eloquent  morals.  liead 
It  so  that  you  can  have  it  to  say,  "  I  onck  read  a  good  book." — Ix)iJcpoH  Democrat. 

MILI.KR,  ORTON  k  MULLIGAN,  Puhikher,, 

'ib  I'rtrk  lU>w,  NV.w  \ h\va   ami  107  (lenosce-st..  Aiilnirn 


Mml  WEsxh. 


Shakspeare's  Complete  Works. 

With  Memoir,  Steel  Portrait,  and  3r.  Illustrations,  992  pp.  8  vc, 
Muslin,  .$2,.50;  Slieep,  Marble  Etlge,  $2,75. 

The  Same,  Fine  Edition,  Royal  Octa?o. 

With  Memoir,  Steel  Portrait,  and  40  full  i)at;e  Illustrations,  Muslin, 
Gilt,  $2,75;  Sheep,  Marble  Edge,  f.^..OO;  Muslin,  Full  Gilt  Edges 
and  Sides ;  ^4,00;  Morocco  do.  $5,00. 

Byron's  Complete  Poetical  Works. 

With  Life  and  Xotes,  Steel  Portrait  and  9  Enirravings  on  Steel,  660 
pp.,  8vo.,  Muslin,Gilt  Back  and  Side  Die,  $2  00;  do.^iijl  Gilt  Edges 
and  Sides,  $3  00;  Sheep,  Marble  Edge,  $2  25;  Morocco,  Full  Gilt 
Edj   ;  and  Sides,  $4  00. 

Tapper's  Poetical  Works. 

Including  "Ballads  for  the  Times,"  "Geraldine,"  "Hactenus,"  "A 
Thousand  Lines,"  and  other  poems.  Author's  Revised  American 
Edition,  Steel  Portrait  430  pp.  12  mo.,  Muslin,  $1,00;  Full  Gilt 
Edges  and  Sides,  §;1,75. 

Proverbial  Philosophy. 

With  an  Essay  on  the  Philosophj'  of  Proverbs,  and  Additional 
Notes,  by  Martin  Farquhar  Tuppkr,  Steel  Portrait,  812  pp.  12  mo. 
Muslin,  $1,00;  Full  Gilt  Edges  and  Sides,  $1,75. 

Tupper's  Complete  Poetical  Works. 

Including  the  above  two  volumes  and  other  Poems,  with  Steel  Por- 
traits, small  8vo.,  Muslin,  Gilt,  $2,00  ;  Sheep,  Marble  Edge,  $2,25  ; 
Full  Gilt  Edges  and  Sides,  $,'?,00;  Morocco,  Full  Gilt  Edges  and 
Sides,  $4,00. 

Gems  from  Tupper. 

305  jip.  24mo.,  Muslin,  38  cents;  Full  Gilt  Sides  and  Edges,  50  cent*. 

Poems  of  John  Quincy  Adams. 

On  Religion  and  Society,  with  Notices  of  his  Life  and  Character* 
116  pp.  i2mo..  Muslin,  50  cents;  (Jilt  Edges  and  Sides,- 63  cents. 

Hymns  from  the  German. 

By  IIenrt  Mills,  D.  1).,  second  edition,  revised  and  enlarged, 
Cloth,  $1  00;  do.  Gilt  Edges,  $1   25, 

mum  OKTOX  &  MULLIGAN,  Publishers, 


oplar  §iflgrapljies. 


LIVES  OF  KENEY  Vm.  AND  HIS  SIX  WIVES, 

By  11.  W.  IIkrbeet,  7  portralte,  441  pp.  12mo.,  .  .  .  .     tl  M 

LIFE  OF  HENST  CLAT, 

By  Horace  Gbkelet  and  Kpks  Sargbant,  Bteel  portrait,  428  pp.  12mo.,  .  1  20 
LIFE  Ain)  SPEECHES  OF  HENSY  CLAY,  being  the  above,  to  which  la  added 

his  most  able  and  popular  Speeches,  steel  portrait,  633  pp.  8vo.,  .  .  2  00 
WEBSTER  AlTD  HIS  MASTER-PIECES, 

By  B.  F.  Tefft,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  steel  portrait,  2  vols.,  1082  pp.  12mo.,  .            .  2  60 
LIFE  OF  GEO.  WASHINGTON,  by  Jabbs  Spabks,  LL.  D.,  new  and  fine  edi- 
tion, steel  portrait,  6T4  pp.  12ino.,      .            .            .            .            .            .  1  25 

LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  H.  SEWARD,  with  Selection*  from  his  Works,  edited 

by  Geo.  K.  Bakkk,  steel  portrait,  410  pp.  12mo.,            .            .            .            .  1  00 

LIFE  OF  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS,  by  W.  11.  Seward,  portrait,  404  pp.  12mo.,  1  00 

LIFE  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON,  by  J.  S.  Jenkins,  illustrated,  897pp.  12nio.,  1  00 

LIFE  OF  WM.  H.  HARRISON,  by  II.  Mostgomkbt,  portrait,  466  pp.  12mo.,  1  00 

LIFE  OF  ZACHARY  TAYLOR,  by  11.  Montgomery,  Illustrated,  468  pp.  8vo.,  1  25 

LIFE  OF  FRANKLIN  PIERCE,  by  D.  W.  Babtlbit,  portrait,  804  pp.  12mo.,  75 
LIFE  OF  BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN,  written  by  himself  with  his  Mlscellane- 

ons  Essays,  portrait,  875  pp.  12mo.,     .            .            .            .            .            .  1  25 

LIFE  OF  GEN.  LAFAYETTE,  by  P.  C.  Hkadlkt,  portrait,  877  pp.  12nio.,  1  25 
LIFE  OF  LOUIS  KOSSUTH,  including  Notices  of  the  Men  and  Scenes  of  tbo 

Hungarian  llevolution,  and  his  Principal  Speeches,  by  P.  C.  Heahlkt;  with 

an  Introduction  by  Horace  Geeelkt;  portrait,  461  pp.  12mo.  .  .  1  25 
LIFE  OF  DANIEL  BOONE,  and  the  Hunters  of  Kentucky,  by  W.  H.  Boqaet, 

Illustrated,  464  pp.  12mo.,        .            .            .            .            .            .            .  1  26 

LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE,  LocKnABT,  portrait,  892  pp.  12mo.,  1  25 

LIFE  OF  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE,  P.  C.  Hkadlkt,  portrait,  888  pp.,  1  25 

LIFE  OF  MARY,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS,  P.  C.  IIkadlet,  portrait,  448  pp.,  1  25 

LIFE  OF  REV.  A.  JUDSON,  by  J.  Clement,  portrait,  836  pp.  12mo.,          .  1  00 

LIVES  OF  THE  THREE  MRS.  JUDSONS,  Mrs.  Willson,  2  portraits,  856  pp.,  1  26 
LIVES  OF  MARY  AND  MARTHA  WASHINGTON,  Mother  and  Wife  of 

George  Washington,  by  Margaret  C.  Coskli.no,  i)ortrait,  248  pp.  16mo.,  78 

LIFE  OF  LADY  JANE  GREY,  by  D.  W.  Baetlett,  portrait,  298  pp.  12mo.  75 

LIFE  OF  JOAN  OF  ARC,  by  D.  W.  Bartlett,  portrait,  221  pp.  16aio.,  .  75 
LIVES  OF  EMINENT  METHODIST  MINISTERS,  containing  Biographical 

Sketches.  Incidents,  Anecdotes,  Becords  of  Travel,  Ac,  by  Eev.  P.  Douolabs 

Ooekie,  portraits,  408  pp.  12iiio.,        .            .            .            .            .            .  1  00 

LIFE  OF  PATRICK  HENRY,  by  8  G.  Arnold,  270  pp.  16nio.,              .  .    60 

LIFE  OF  JOSEPH  ADDISON,  by  Lucy  Aikek,  279  pp.,  12nia,       ,          .  60 

|3?"  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  Single  Copies  sent  by  Mail,  post 
paid,  ou  receijit  of  price. 

MILLEE,  ORTCN  &  MTJLLIGAIT,  PubUsliers. 

No.  26  Park  Row,  New  Youk,  and  107  Genesee-st..  Auburn 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIC, 


A    001426  099    6 


uiooM  Suipcay  1WI8U3 


9xn%vji3tt'^ 


uvnj^tuy  jmv  qst^Su^ 


m 


uopo9jjo^  ^aq^tuv^  'g  iCftq 


^W 


